LIBRARY  OF  PRINCETON 
f 


AUG  3- 2004 


THEOLOGICAL  SE^^  I  NARY 


BT,375^  .D63  1883 

Dods,  Marcus,  1834-1909. 

The  parables  of  our  Lord 


J 


THE 


^ARABLES    OLJOUR   LORD 


BY 


MARCUS    DODS,    D.D. 


\,THE  PARABLES  RECORDED  BY  ST  MA  TTHEW  ] 


NEW    YORK:     MACMILLAN    &    CO, 
1883 


#>T 


CONTENTS. 


CHAr.  PAGE 

I.  THE  SOWER I 

Matt.  xiii.  1-9,  18-23  :  Lul^e  vii  4-15. 

II.  THE  TARES 25 

Matt.  xiii.  24-50,  36-43. 

III.      THE  MUST.ARD  SEED  ....  45 

Matt.  xiii.  31,  32. 

IV.      THE  LEAVEN 67 

Malt.  xiii.  33. 

V.      THE   HID   TREASURE  AND   THE   PEARL  OF 

PRICE 89 

Matt.  xiii.  44-46. 

VI.      THE  NET ■       .  .  109 

Matt.  xiii.  47-50. 

VII.      THE     UNMERCIFUL     SERVANT     OR     THE 

UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR         .  .  .  1 29 

Matt,  xviii.  23-33- 


IV  CONTENTS. 


CHAP. 

VIII.      LABOURERS   IN   THE  VINEYARD.      FIRST 


LAST  AND  LAST  FIRST  .  .  .  15I 

Matt.  XX.  i-i6. 

IX.      THE  TWO  SONS 17I 

Matt.  xxi.  28-32. 

X.      THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN        .  .  .  I93 

Matt.  xxi.  33-45. 

XL      THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING'S  SON  .  213    | 

Matt.  xxi.  45 — xxii.  14. 

XII.      THE  TEN  VIRGINS 233 

Matt.  XXV.  1-13. 

H^..  XIII.      THE  TALENTS 255 

Matt.  XXV.  14-30. 


1 


I. 


THE     SOWER. 


"  The  same  day  ivetit  Jesus  out  of  the  house,  and  sat  by  ike  si 
side.     And  great  multitudes  zvere  gathered  together  unto  him,  . 
that  he  went  into  a  ship,  and  sat ;   and  the  7vhole  multitiu, 
stood  071  the  shore.      And  he  spake  many  things  unto  them  i 
parables,  saying.  Behold,  a  so7t)er  went  forth  to  sow  ;  And  whe 
he  sotued,  some  seeds  fell  by  the  way  side,  and  the  fowls  came  an 
devoured  them  up :  some  fell  upon  stony  places,  where  they  ha, 
not  much  earth  :  and  forthwith  they  sprung  up,  because  they  ha, 
710  deep7iess  of  earth:  atid  when   the  sun   was  up,   they  wei''^ 
scorched ;   and  because  they  had  no  root,  they  withered  a7iw_>]i[ 
A7id  some  fell  among  thorns;  and  the  thor7ts  sp)-u7tg  up,  an, 
choked  the7n  :  but  other  fell  i7ito  good  ground,  a7id  brought  fort, 
fruit,  so77ie  an  hundredfold,  some  sixtyfold,  so/ne  thirtyfold.      IVh 
hath  ears  to  hear,   let  him  hear."  .  .   .    ^^  Hear  ye  therefore  th 
pa7-able  of  the  sower.      Whe7i  a/iy  07ie  hcareth  the  word  of  th\i^ 
ki7igdo77i,  a7id  U7tderstandeth  it  7iot,  the7i  cometh  the  wicked  one^ . 
and  catcheth  azuay  that  luhich  was  sow7i  i7i  his  heart.     This  i 
he  which  received  seed  by  the  zuay  side.     But  he  that  received  th- 
seed  i/ito  stotty  places,  the  same  is  he  that  heareth  the  luord,  rrw^o 
a}ion  zvith  joy  receiveth  it ;  yet  hath  he  7iot  root  i7i  himself  bui. 
durethfora  while :  for  when  t7'ibulation  or  persectetion  arise t}, 
because  of  the  word,   by  and  by  he  is  offended.     He  also  tha, 
7-eceived  seed  a>nong  the  thor7is  is  he  that  heaj-eth  the  wo7-d ;  ana^ 
the  ca7-e  of  this  world,  and  the  deeeitfulness  of  riches,  choke  tht\ 
wo7-d,  a7id  he  beco7ncth  ujifruitful.    But  he  that  received  seed  i)tti 
the  good  ground  is  he  that  heareth  the  word,  attd  understandcth 
it ;  ivhich  also  bcareth  fruit,  and  bri7igeth  foiih,  some  an  hzoidrcd-^' 
fold,  some  sixty,  some  thirty.'" — Matt.  xiii.   I-9,  18-23. 


THE  SOWER.         -dSP 

Matt.  xiii.  1-9,  iS-23;  Luke  vii.  4-15. 

^IS  parable  had  to  be  spoken.  It  gave 
:pression  to  thoughts  which  burdened  the 
ind  of  Jesus  throughout  His  ministry.  On 
e  day  He  uttered  it,  He  had  left  the  house 
d  was  sitting  by  the  sea-side,  "and  there 
ire  gathered  unto  Him  great  multitudes.'' 
e  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  an  audience. 
is  one  of  the  greatest  pleasures  to  listen  to 
good  speaker.  It  is  a  pleasure  which  attracts 
>ung  and  old,  rich  and  poor,  educated  and 
^educated.  A  good  speaker  is  always  sure  of 
I  audience,  and  especially  where  he  has  not 

I  encounter  the  rivalry  of  books.  But  as 
tsus  watched  the  crowd  assembling,  and  per- 
ived  the  various  dispositions  with  which  the 
:ople  came,  He  could  not  but  reflect  how 
uch  of  what  He  had  to  say  must  certainly 
•  lost  on   many.     He  knew  He  had  that  to 

II  men  which,  if  received,  would  change  the 
be  of  society,  and  turn  the  wilderness  into  a 
Irden.  He  was  conscious  of  that  in  His  own 
ind  which,  could  it  only  be  conveyed  into  the 


THE  SOWER. 


minds   of  those  pressing   around   Him,  vvou" 
cause  their  lives  to  flourish  with  righteousne?''' 
^^         beauty,   love,   usefulness,   and    joy.       He   hff 
t>^        "many   things    to    say"  to   them,   things  th; 
never  yet  had  fallen  and  never  again  could  h 
from  human  lips;  and  yet  who,  of  the  thousand" 
that  listened,  would  believe?     They  came,  son ' 
out  of  curiosity,  some  saying  within  themselvef 
"What  will  this  sower  of  words  say?"  some  oi 
of  hatred,  seeking  occasion  against  Him;  but  a 
thinking  themselves  entitled  to  hold  and  exprei 
an  opinion  regarding  the  importance  or  worti 
lessness  of  what  He  said.    They  needed  to  ha^' 
their  critical  faculty  exercised  upon  themselv^ 
and  to  be  reminded  that  in  order  to  benefit  b 
what  He  had  to  say,  they  must  bring  certai 
capacities.  k 

The  parabolic  form  of  teaching  is  pleasant  t '" 
listen  to ;  it  is  easily  retained  in  the  memory' 
it  stimulates^  thought,  each  man  being  left  t'' 
find  an  interpretation  for  himself;  and  it  avoid' 
the  offensiveness  of  direct  rebuke.  To  th" 
crowd  Jesus  speaks  only  of  the  sower  in  tlj  ' 
fields,  and  makes  no  explicit  reference  to  Hirr!" 
self  or  to  them.  \i^ 

The  object  of  this  parable,  then,  is  to  explai  ■ 
the  causes  of  the  failure  and  success  of  the  goP 
pel.  Apart  from  experience,  it  might  have  bee^) 
supposed  that  our  Lord  had  only  to  proclair'^' 
His  kingdom  in  order  to  gather  all  men  to  Hj^^ 


ler 


THE  SOWER.  5 

idard.  If  it  were  so  that  God  desired  all 
n  to  enter  into  everlasting  joy,  did  not  this 
love  every  difficulty,  and  secure  the  happi- 
s  of  all?  Could  such  a  messenger  and  such 
jnessage  fail  to  move  every  one  who  came  in 
jitact  with  them?  Alas!  even  after  so  many 
ituries  Christianity  is  not  the  one  only 
igion  men  believe  in  ;  and  even  where  it  is 
bfessed,  it  is  most  inadequately  under- 
iod  and  received.  Why,  then,  is  it  so  ? 
y,  to  so  lamentable  an  extent  does  every 
mcy  for  the  extension  of  Christ's  kingdom 
[?  It  fails,  says  our  Lord,  not  because  the 
ims  of  the  kingdom  are  doubtful,  not  because 
:y  are  inappropriately  urged — these  causes 
ly  no  doubt  sometimes  operate  —  but  the 
igdom  fails  to  extend  because  the  fructifica- 
n  of  the  seed  of  the  word  depends  upon  the  p 
ture  of  the  soil  it  falls  upon,  and  because  that  i/^' 
1  is  often  impervious,  often  "hallow,  often 
ty.  The  seed  is  not  in  fault,  the  sowing  is 
t  in  fault,  but  the  soil  is  faulty — a  statement 
the  case  as  little  accepted  by  those  in  our 
^n  day  who  discuss  Christ's  claims,  as  it  was 
our  Lord's  contemporaries. 
I.  The  first  faultiness  of  soil  our  Lord  speci-  7 
3  in  the  words,  "  Some  seeds  fell  by  the 
yside,  and  the  fowls  came  and  devoured 
im  up ;  "  and  the  interpretation  or  spiritual 
alogue  He  gives  in  the  words,  "When  any 


6  THE  SOWER. 

one   heareth    the   word    of    the   kingdom    an 

tinderstaiidetJi  it  not,  then  cometh  the  wicke' 
'  _  { 

one  and  catcheth  away  that  which  was  sowj 
in  his  heart."     The  beaten  footpath  that  crosse.  ' 
the  corn  field,  and  that  is  maintained  year  aftei: 
year,  or  the  cart-track  along  the  side  of  tm 
field,    may   serve    a   very   useful   purpose,    bik„ 
certainly  it  will  grow  no  corn.     The  hard  sui| 
face  does  not  admit  the  seed:    you  might  a[ 
well  scatter  seed  on  a  wooden  table,  or  a  pave 
ment,  or  a  mirror.     The  seed  may  be  of  thji. 
finest  quality,  but  for  all  the  purposes  of  sowing 
you   might  as  well   sprinkle   pebbles  or   shot| 
It  lies  on  the  surface.     This  state  of  matteri 
then  represents  that  hearing  of  the  word  whicB 
manages   to   keep   the   word    entirely   outside!' 
["The  word  has  been  heard,  but  that  is  all.     Il 
has  not  even  entered    the  understanding.      Ii 
has  been  heard  as  men  listen  to  what  is  said  iij 
a   foreign   language.      The   mind  is  not    inter- 
ested ;  it  is  roused  to  no  enquiry,  provoked  tfl 
no  contradiction.    You  have  sometimes  occasioi|' 
to  suggest  a  different   course   of  action    to   i 
friend ;  and,  in  order  to  do  so,  you  mention  ^ 
fact  which  should  be  sufficient  to  alter  his  purj 
pose,  but  you  find  he  has  not  appreliended  its 
significance,  has  not  seen    its    bearing — it  ha| 
not  fructified  in  his  mind  as  you  expected,  and! 
you  say  to  yourself,  "  He  does  not  take  it  in.] 
So  says  our  Lord  ;   there  are  hearers  who  d( 


THE  SOWER.  7 

t  take  in  what  is  said  ;  they  do  not  see  the 
arings  of  the  word  they  hear ;  their  under- 
anding  is  impervious,  inmpenetrable. 

Are  there  such  hearers  ?  Surely  there  are. 
here  are  persons  on  whom  the  seed  of  the 
ord  falls  as  by  accident,  and  who  have  neither 
•epared  themselves  to  hear  it,  nor  make  any 
fort  to  retain  it.  They  are  members  of  a 
lurch-going  family,  or  they  have  formed  a 
mrch-going  habit  of  their  own  ;  they  have 
irhaps  their  reason  for  being  found  side  by 
de  with  those  who  hear  with  profit,  but  they 
3  not  come  for  the  sake  of  hearing ;  they  are 
ot  anxious  to  hear,  thoughtful  about  what  they 
ear,  careful  to  retain  it.  There  are  careless 
ersons  who  hear  the  word  not  as  the  result  of 

decision  that  it  z's  to  be  heard  ;  not  as  they 
^ould,  on  beginning  the  study  of  chemistry  or 
f  philosophy,  seek  out  certain  teachers  and 
ertain  books ;  but  as  the  hearing  of  the  word 
appens  to  be  the  employment  of  the  hour, 
hey  submit  to  this  social  convention,  and  they 
How  the  seed  of  the  kingdom  to  fall  upon  them 
nth  no  more  expectation  than  that  with  which 
hey  hear  the  passing  salutation  of  a  friend 
•n  the  street,  knowing  that  whether  Jie  says  it 
s  a  fine  day  or  not,  it  is  equally  without  signifi- 
:ance.  This  hearing  of  the  word  has  come  to 
)e  one  of  the  many  employments  with  which 
nen  fill  up  their  time,  and  this  hearer  has  never 


8  THE  SOWER. 

thought  why,  nor  whether  it  does  him  any  gooc 
or  no.  He  has  never  considered  why  he 
personally  should  listen  to  this  special  kind  oi 
word,  nor  what  he  personally  may  expect  as 
the  result  of  it. 

There  are,  in  short,  persons  who,  either  from 

f  preoccupation  with  other  thoughts  and  hopes, 

have  their   minds   beaten   hard    and    rendered 

quite  impervious  to  thoughts  of  Christ's  king- 

,  dom,  or  from  a  natural  slowness  and  hard  frosti 

ness  o£nature,  hear  the  word  without  admitting 

it  even  to  work  in  their  understanding.     They 

do    not    ponder   what  is   heard,    they   do   not 

check  the  statements  they  hear  by  their  own 

thought ;  they  do  not  consider  the  bearings  of 

the  gospel  on  themselves.     When  you  propose 

to  a  farmer  who  is  paying  too  high  a  rent  to  go 

to  some  part  of  the  country  where   rents   are 

lower,  the  idea  will  probably  find  entrance  into 

his   understanding.       He   may   not    ultimately 

adopt  it,  but  it  will  stir  a  great  many  hopes  and 

thoughts  of  various  kinds  in  him,  and   he  will 

find  his  mind  dwelling  on  it  day  after  day,  and 

hour  by  hour,  so  that  he  can  speak  of  little  else. 

But  the  proposals  made  to  the  wayside  hearer 

suggest    nothing    at    all    to    him.      His   mind 

mrbws  off  Christ's  offers  as  a  slated  roof  throws 

off  hail.     You   might  as  well   expect  seed  to 

grow   on    a   tightly-braced    drum-head    as   the 

word  to  profit  such  a  hearer ;  it  dances  on  the 


THE  SOWER.  9 

hard  surface,  and  the  slightest  motion  shakes 
it  off. 
/  The  consequence  is,  it  is  forgotten.  When 
seed  is  scattered  on  a  hard  surface  it  is  not 
allowed  to  lie  long.  The  birds  devour  it  up. 
Every  hedge,  every  tree,  every  roof  contributes 
its  eager  few,  and  shortly  not  a  corn  remains. 
So  when  not  even  the  mind  has  been  interested 
in  Christ's  word,  that  word  is  quickly  forgotten  ; 
the  conversation  on  the  way  home  from  church, 
the  thought  of  to-morrow's  occupations,  the 
sight  of  some  one  on  the  street — anything, 
is  enough  to  take  it  clean  away.  In  some 
persons  the  word  is  admitted  though  it  does 
not  at  once  bring  forth  fruit.  As  in  the  old 
fable  the  words  spoken  unheard  in  the  Arctic 
circle  were  thawed  into  sound  and  became 
audible  in  warmer  latitudes  ;  so  when  a  man 
passes  into  new  circumstances  and  a  state  of 
life  more  congenial  to  the  development  of 
Christian  discipleship,  the  word  which  has 
apparently  been  lost  for  years  begins  to  stir 
and  make  itself  heard  in  his  soul.  But  it 
cannot  be  so  with  the  wayside  hearer,  for  in 
him  the  word  has  never  found  any  manner  of 
lodgment. 

2.  The  second  faultiness  of  soil  our  Lord 
enumerates  is  shallpwjiess.  What  we  com- 
monly understand  by  "  stony  ground  "  is  a  field 
thickly  strewn  with  small  stones  ;  not  the  best 


lO  THE  SOWER. 

kind  of  soil,  but  quite  available  for  growing 
corn.  This  is  not  the  soil  meant  here.  Our 
Lord  speaks  rather  of  rocky  ground,  where  a 
thin  surface  of  mould  overlies  an  impenetrable 
rock.  There  is  a  mere  dusting  of  soil  on  the 
surface  ;  if  you  put  a  stick  or  a  spade  into  it, 
you  come  upon  the  rock  a  few  inches  below. 
On  such  ground  the  seed  quickly  springs,  there 
being  no  deepness  of  earth  to  allow  of  its 
spending  time  in  rooting  itself.  And  for  the 
same  reason  it  quickly  withers  when  exposed 
to  the  fierce  heats  which  benefit  and  mature 
strongly-rooted  plants.  Precocity  and  rapid 
growth  are  everywhere  the  forerunners  of  rapid 
decay.  The  oak  that  is  to  stand  a  thousand 
years  does  not  shoot  up  like  the  hop  or  the 
creeper.  Man  whose  age  is  seventy  years  has 
a  slowly  growing  infancy  and  youth,  while  the 
insect  grows  up  in  a  day  and  dies  at  night  or  at 
the  week's  end. 

The  shallow  hearer  our  Lord  distinguishes 
by  two  characteristics  ;  he  straightivay  receives 
the  word,  and  he  receives  it  zvitJi  joy.  The 
man  of  deeper  character  receives  the  word  with 
deliberation,  as  one  who  has  many  things  to 
take  into  account  and  to  weigh.  He  receives 
it  with  seriousness,  and  reverence,  and  tremb- 
ling, foreseeing  the  trials  he  will  be  subjected 

,  and  he  cannot  show  a  light-minded  joy. 
The    superficial    character    responds    quickly 


THE  SOWER.  I  I 

because  there  is  no  depth  of  inner  life.  Diffi- 
culties which  deter  men  of  greater  depth  do 
not  stagger  the  superficial.  While  other  men 
are  engaged  in  giving  the  word  entrance  into 
all  the  secret  places  of  their  life,  and  are  con- 
fronting it  with  their  most  cherished  feelings 
and  ways,  that  they  may  clearly  see  the  extent 
of  the  changes  it  will  work  :  while  they  are 
pondering  it  in  the  majesty  of  its  hope  and 
the  vastness  of  its  revelation  ;  while  they  are 
striving  to  forecast  all  its  results  in  them  and 
upon  them  ;  while  they  are  hesitating  because 
they  are  in  earnest,  and  would  receive  the  word 
for  eternity  or  not  at  all,  and  would  give  it 
entrance  to  the  whole  of  their  being,  or  exclude 
it  altogether, — while  others  are  doing  this,  the 
superficial  man  has  settled  the  whole  matter 
out  of  hand,  and  he  who  yesterday  was  a 
known  scoffer  is  to-day  a  loud-voiced  child  of 
the  kingdom. 

These  men  may  often  be  mistaken  for  the 
most  earnest  Christians  :  indeed  they  are 
almost  certainly  taken  to  be  the  most  earnest ; 
you  cannot  see  the  root,  and  what  is  seen  is 
shown  in  greatest  luxuriance  by  the  superficial. 
The  earnest  man  has  much  of  his  energy  to 
spend  beneath  the  soil,  he  cannot  show  any- 
thing till  he  is  sure  of  the  root.  He  is  often 
working  away  at  the  foundation  while  another 
is  at  the  copestone.     But  the  test  comes.     The 


1  2  THE  SOWER. 

ivery  influences  which  exercise  and  mature  the 
'well-rooted  character,  wither  the  superficially- 
rooted.  The  same  shallowness  of  nature  which 
made  them  susceptible  to  the  gospel  and 
quickly  responsive,  makes  them  susceptible  to 
pain,  suffering,  hardship,  and  easily  defeated. 
It  is  so  in  all  departments  of  life.  The  super- 
-ficial  are  taken  with  every  new  thing.  The 
boy  is  delighted  with  a  new  study  or  a  new 
game,  but  becomes  proficient  in  neither.  The 
3'^outh  is  charmed  with  volunteering,  but  one 
season  of  early  rising  is  more  than  he  can 
stand  :  or  he  is  fascinated  with  the  idea  that 
history  is  an  extremely  profitable  kind  of 
reading ;  but  you  know  quite  well  when  he 
asks  for  the  loan  of  the  first  volume  of  Gibbon 
or  Grote,  that  he  will  never  come  to  you  for  the 
last.  The  action  of  the  shallow  man  is  in  every 
case  hasty,  not  based  on  a  carefully  considered 
and  resolutely  accepted  plan  :  he  is  charmed 
with  the  first  appearances,  and  does  not  look 
into  the  matter,  and  forecast  results  and  conse- 
quences. Accordingly,  when  consequences  have 
to  be  faced,  he  is  not  prepared  and  gives  way. 

But  how,  then,  can  the  shallow  man  be  saved  .-• 
Is  there  no  provision  in  the  gospel  for  those 
who  are  born  with  a  thin,  poor  nature.?  This 
question  scarcely  falls  to  be  answered  here, 
because  the  parable  presents  one  truth  regard- 
ing shallow  natures,  which  is  verified   in  thou- 


THE  SOWER.  13 

sands  of  instances.  Men  do  thus  deal  with  the 
word,  and  thus  make  shipwreck  of  faith,  and 
that  is  all  we  have  here  to  do  with.  But 
passing  beyond  the  parable,  it  may  be  right  to 
say  that  a  man's  nature  may  be  deepened  by 
the  events,  and  relationships,  and  conflicts  of 
life.  Indeed,  that  much  deepening  of  character 
is  constantly  effected,  you  may  gather  from  the  ' 
fact  that  while  many  young  persons  are  shallow,  T 
the  old  persons  whom  you  would  characterise 
as  shallow  are  comparatively  few. 

3.  The  third  faultiness  of  soil  which  causes  ,' 
failure  in  the  crop  is  what  is  technically  known 
as  dirt.  The  soil  is  not  impenetrable,  nor  is  it 
shallow  ;  it  is  deep,  good  land,  but  it  has  not 
been  cleaned  —  there  is  seed  in  it  already. 
Sometimes  you  see  a  field  of  wheat  brilliantly 
coloured  throughout  with  poppies;  or  a  field  of 
oats  which  it  is  difficult  to  cut  on  account  of 
the  dense  growth  of  thistles,  and  of  rank  grass. 
But  the  soil  can  only  feed  a  certain  amount  of 
vegetation,  and  every  living  weed  means  a 
choked  blade  of  corn.  This  is  a  worse  case 
than  the  others.  No  crop  can  be  looked  for  on 
a  beaten  road,  not  much  can  be  expected  from 
a  mere  peppering  of  soil  upon  rock  ;  but  here 
there  is  rich,  deep,  loamy  mould,  that  must  be  ^ 
growing  something,  and  would,  if  cared  for, 
yield  a  magnificent  harvest,  and  yet  there  is 
little  or  nothing  but  thorns.        /?'_/  ^    "^^J&J, 


14  THE  SOWER. 

This  is  a  picture  of  the  preoccupied  heart  of 
the  rich,  vigorous  nature,  capable  of  under- 
standing, appreciating,  and  making  much  of 
the  word  of  the  kingdom,  but  occupied  with 
so  many  other  interests,  that  only  a  small  part 
of  its  energy  is  available  for  giving  effect  to 
Christ's  ideas.  These  ideas  arc  not  excluded 
from  the  thoughts,  they  are  welcomed  ;  the 
mind  is  full  of  intelligent  interest  in  Christian 
truth,  and  the  heart  has  a  real  and  profound 
sympathy  with  the  work  of  Christ  in  the  world 
and  with  His  spirit,  and  yet,  after  all,  little 
practical  good  proceeds  from  the  man — Christian 
principle  does  not  come  to  much  in  his  case — 
the  life  shows  little  result  of  a  specially  Christian 
kind.  The  reason  is  that  the  man  is  occupied 
with  a  multitude  of  other  views,  and  projects, 
and  cares,  and  desires,  and  the  peculiarly 
Christian  seed  does  not  get  fair  play.  It  influ- 
ences him,  but  it  is  hindered  and  mixed  up 
with  so  many  other  influences  that  the  result  is 
scarcely  discernible.  The  peculiarity  of  a  good 
field  of  wheat  is  not  the  density  of  the  vegeta- 
tion, but  that  the  vegetation  is  all  of  one  kind, 
is  all  wheat.  Leave  the  field  to  itself,  you  will 
in  a  short  time  have  quite  as  dense  a  vege- 
tation, but  it  will  be  of  a  multifarious  kind. 
That  the  field  bears  wheat  only,  is  the  result  of 
cultivation — not  merely  of  sowing  wheat,  but 
of  preventing  anything  else  from  being  sown. 


THE  SOWER.  15 

The  first  care  of  the  diligent  farmer  is  to  clean 
his  land. 

And  as  there  is  generally  some  one  kind  of 
weed  to  which  the  soil  is  congenial,  and  against 
which  the  farmer  has  to  wage  a  continual  war, 
so  our  Lord  here  specifies  as  specially  dan- 
gerous to  us  "  the  care  of  this  world  and  the 
deceitfulness  of  riches.''  The  care  of  this  world 
has  been  called  the  poor  man's  species  of 
the  deceitfulness  of  riches,  and  the  deceitful- 
ness of  riches  a  variety  of  the  care  of 
this  world.  There  are  poor  men  who  have 
no  anxiety,  and  rich  men  who  are  not  misled 
by  their  riches  either  into  dependence  on  their 
wealth,  or  desire  to  make  it  more.  But  among 
rich  men  and  poor  men  alike  you  will  find 
some  or  many  who  would  be  left  without 
any  subject  of  thought,  and  any  guiding  prin- 
ciple in  action,  if  you  took  from  them  anxiety 
about  their  own  position  in  life.  It  is  this  from 
which  all  the  fruit  they  bear  springs.  Take  the 
actions  of  a  year,  the  annual  outcome  or  harvest 
of  the  man,  and  how  much  of  what  he  has 
produced  you  can  trace  to  this  seed — to  a  mere 
anxiety  about  income  and  position.  This  is 
really  the  seed,  this  is  all  that  is  required  to 
account  for  a  large  part  of  many  men's  actions. 

Our  Lord  therefore  warns  us  that  if  the 
word  is  to  do  its  work  in  us,  and  produce  all 
the  good  it  is  meant  to  produce,  it  must  have 


I  6  THE  SOWER. 

the  field  to  itself.  It  will  not  do  merely  to 
give  attention  to  the  word  while  it  is  preached  : 
the  mind  may  be  clean  on  the  surface,  while 
there  remain  great  knots  of  roots  below,  which 
will  inevitably  spring  up,  and  by  their  more 
inveterate  growth  choke  the  word.  This  is  the 
mistake  of  many.  It  i§  proper,  they  know,  to 
hear  the  word — proper  to  give  it  fair  play. 
They  do  make  an  effort  to  banish  worldly 
and  anxious  thoughts,  and  to  give  their  atten- 
tion to  divine  things,  but  even  though  they 
succeed  in  putting  aside  for  tlie  time  distract- 
ing thoughts,  what  of  that  if  they  have  not  the 
care  of  the  world  up  by  the  roots  ?  Cutting 
down  won't  do  :  still  less,  a  mere  holding  aside 
of  the  thorns  till  the  seed  be  sown.  What 
chance  has  the  seed  in  a  heart  from  which 
these  eager  thoughts  and  hopes  are  merely 
held  back  for  the  hour.''  The  cares  of  the  world 
will  just  swing  over  again  and  meet  above  the 
good  seed,  and  shut  out  the  day  and  every 
maturing  influence.  You  receive  to-day  good 
impressions,  you  give  the  good  seed  entrance, 
and  it  begins  to  spring  in  you,  it  prompts 
you  to  a  reasonable  generosity  and  self-denial. 
To-morrow  morning  the  tender  blade  of  a 
desire  to  purify  and  prepare  your  spirit  by 
some  real  and  devout  converse  with  God  has 
sprung  up  in  you,  but  the  habitual  craving  to 
be   at   your  work   and    lose   no  moment  from 


THE  SOWER.  I  J 

business  crushes  and  chokes  the  little  blade, 
and  it  can  no  more  lift  its  head.  Or  the 
seed  has  produced  even  the  green  ear  of  a 
growing  habit  of  living  under  God's  eye,  of 
walking  with  God  and  bringing  all  your  trans- 
actions before  His  judgment, — mature  fruit 
seems  on  the  point  of  being  produced  by  you, 
when  suddenly  the  promise  of  a  rich  harvest 
is  choked  by  the  old  coarse  thorn  of  a  fondness 
for  rapid  profits,  which  leads  you  to  ambiguous 
language,  and  reservations,  and  unfair  dealings, 
such  as  you  feel  separate  you  from  God,  and 
dash  your  spiritual  ardour,  and  make  you  feel 
like  a  fool  and  a  knave  both,  when  you  speak 
of  your  citizenship  being  in  heaven.  It  is  vain, 
then,  to  hope  for  the  only  right  harvest  of  a 
human  life  if  your  heart  is  sown  with  worldly 
ambitions,  a  greedy  hasting  to  be  rich,  an 
undue  love  of  comfort,  a  true  earthliness  of 
spirit.  One  seed  only  must  be  "sown  in  you, 
and  it  will  produce  all  needed  diligence  in 
business,  as  well  as  all  fervour  of  spirit. 

These,  then,  are  the  three  faulty  soils  to 
which  our  Lord  chiefly  ascribes  the  failure  of 
the  sowing.  The  question  arises,  Does  the 
result  follow  in  the  moral  sowing  and  in  the 
world  of  men  as  uniformly  and  inevitably  as 
it  follows  in  the  sowing  of  corn  in  nature  .-'  In 
nature  some  soils  are  irreclaimable,  vast  tracts 
of  the  earth's  surface  are  as  useless  as  the  sea 


15  THE  SOWER. 

for  the  purposes  of  growing  grain.  They  may 
indirectly  contribute  to  the  fruitfulness  of  corn 
lands  by  influencing  the  climate,  but  no  one 
thinks  of  cultivating  these  tracts  themselves,  of 
sowing  the  sands  of  Sahara  or  the  ice-fields  of 
Siberia.  But  the  gospel  is  to  be  preached  to 
every  creature,  because  in  man  there  is  one 
important  distinction  from  material  nature ;  he 
is  possessed  of  free  will,  of  the  power  of 
checking  to  sorne  extent  natural  tendencies, 
and  preventing  natural  consequences.  Accord- 
ingly, we  cannot  just  accept  the  bare  teaching 
of  the  parable  as  the  whole  truth  regarding  the 
operation  of  the  gospel  in  man's  heart,  but 
only  as  one  part  of  the  truth,  and  that  a  most 
important  part.  The  parable  enters  into  no 
consideration  nor  explanation  of  how  men 
arrive  at  the  spiritual  conditions  here  enumer- 
ated ;  but,  given  those  conditions — and  they 
are  certainly  common  however  arrived  at — 
given  those  conditions,  the  result  is  failure  of 
the  gospel. 

In   contrast,    then,   to    these   three   faults  of 

impenetrability,  shallowness,  and  dirt,  we  may 

be  expected  to  do  something  towards  bringing 

I  to  the  hearing  of  the  word  a  soft,  deep,  clean 

I  soil  of  heart,  or,  as  Luke  calls  it,  "  an  honest 

i  and_^good    heart."      There    are   differences    in 

the  crop  even   among  those   who   bring  good 

hearts ;  one  bears  thirty-fold,  one  sixty,  one  an 


THE  SOWER.  19 

hundred-fold.  One  man  has  natural  advan- 
tages, opportunities  of  position,  and  so  forth, 
which  make  his  yield  greater.  One  man  may- 
have  had  a  larger  proportion  of  seed  ;  in  his 
early  days  and  all  through  his  life  he  may  have 
been  in  contact  with  the  word,  and  in  favouring 
circumstances.  But  wherever  the  word  is  re- 
ceived, and  held  fast,  and  patiently  cared  for, 
there  the  life  will  produce  all  that  God  cares  to 
have  from  it. 

Honesty  is  a  prime  requisite  in  hearing  the 
wor^,  and  a  rare  one.  Men  listen  honestly  to 
a  lecture  on  science  or  history,  from  which  they 
expect  information ;  but  where  conduct  is  aimed 
at,  or  a  vote  is  concerned,  men  commonly  listen 
with  minds  already  made  up.  It  is  notorious 
that  men  vote  as  they  meant  to  vote, 
no  matter  what  is  said.  If  a  Liberal  were 
found  voting  with  Conservatives  on  any  im- 
portant point,  some  mistake  would  be  supposed. 
The  last  thing  thought  of  would  be  that  his 
convictions  had  been  altered  by  the  speaking. 
But  if  we  are  to  hear  the  word  as  we  ought, 
we  must  bring  an  honest  heart,  we  must  not 
listen  with  a  mind  already  made  up  against  the 
gospel,  with  no  intention  whatever  of  being 
persuaded,  cherishing  purposes  and  habits, 
alongside  of  which  it  is  impossible  the  word 
should  grow.  On  the  contrary,  we  should  con- 
sider that  this  is  the  seed  proper  to  the  human 


20  THE  SOWER. 

heart,  and  which  can  alone  produce  what  human 
life  should  produce — the  word  of  God,  which 
we  must  listen  to  gratefully,  humbly,  sincerely, 
greedily,  and  with  the  firm  purpose  of  giving  it 
unlimited  scope  within  us.  But  where  is  the 
attentive,  painstaking  scrutiny  of  the  heart 
which  this  demands  ?  Where  is  the  careful 
husbandry  of  our  souls,  which  would  secure  a 
kindly  reception  for  the  word  ?  Where  is  the 
jealous  challenging  of  every  sentiment,  habit, 
influence,  association,  that  begs  for  a  lodging 
within  us  ?  For  where  this  is,  and  not  else- 
where, we  may  expect  the  fruit  of  the  kingdom. 
But  even  this  is  not  enough.  The  fruitful 
hearer  must  not  only  bring  an  honest  and  good 
heart,  he  must  keep  the  word.  The  farmer's 
work  is  not  finished  when  he  has  prepared  the 
soil  and  sown  the  seed.  If  pains  be  not  taken 
after  the  sowing,  the  seed  that  has  fallen  on 
good  soil  may  be  taken  away  as  utterly  as  that 
which  has  fallen  on  the  beaten  path.  The 
birds  scatter  over  the  whole  field.  We  must 
therefore  set  a  watcher ;  we  must  send  the 
harrow  over  to  cover  in  the  seed,  and  the  roller 
to  give  the  plant  a  better  hold  on  the  soil.  The 
word  must  not  be  allowed  to  take  its  chance, 
once  it  has  been  heard.  Mere  hearing  does  not 
secure  fruit ;  it  goes  for  nothing.  Your  labour 
is  lost  unless  your  mind  goes  back  upon  what 
you  hear,  and  you  see  that  it  gets  hold  of  you. 


THE  SOWER.  2  I 

All  of  US  have  already  heard  all  that  is  necessary 
for  life  and  godliness  ;  it  remains  that  we  make 
it  our  own,  that  it  secure  a  living  root  and 
place  in  us  and  in  our  life.  In  order  to  this  we 
must  keep  the  truth  ;  we  must  bear  it  in  mind, 
so  that  whatever  else  comes  before  the  mind 
throws  new  light  on  it,  and  gives  it  a  further 
hold  upon  us.  We  must  not  let  the  events  of 
the  world  and  the  occurrences  of  our  day  thrust 
it  from  our  minds,  but  must  confront  it  with 
these,  and  test  it  by  these,  so  that  thus  it  may 
become  more  real  to  us,  and  have  a  vital  influ- 
ence. One  truth  received  thus,  brings  forth 
more  fruit  than  all  truth  merely  understood.  It 
is  not  the  amount  of  knowledge  you  have,  but 
the  use  you  put  it  to — it  is  not  the  number  of 
good  sayings  you  have  heard  and  can  repeat, 
that  will  profit  you,  but  the  place  in  your  hearts 
you  have  given  them,  and  the  connection  they 
have  with  the  motives,  and  principles,  and  ruling 
ideas  of  your  life. 

And,  therefore,  meditation  has  always  been,  \ 
and  must  always  be,  reckoned  among  the  most 
indispensable  means  of  grace.  Since  ever 
saints  were,  their  saintliness  has  been  in  great 
part  due  to  a  habit  of  meditation.  Without  it, 
the  other  means  of  grace  remain  helplessly 
outside  of  us.  The  word  does  not  profit 
except  the  mind  be  actively  appropriating 
God's   message   and    revolving   it.      Prayer   is 


4 


22  THE  SOWER. 

but  a  deluding  form,  that  means  nothing, 
expects  nothing,  and  receives  nothing,  if  medi- 
tation has  not  provided  its  material.  Unless 
a  man  think  upon  his  life  and  try  his  ways,  his 
confession  can  but  remove  the  scum  from  the 
surface,  leaving  the  heart  burdened  and  pol- 
luted ;  for  the  graver  sins  do  not  float,  but  sink 
deep,  and  must  be  dragged  for  with  patience 
and  skill,  if  not  descried  through  a  very  rare 
natural  clearness  and  simplicity  of  character. 
It  is  in  the  stillness  and  quiet  of  our  hours  of 
reflection,  when  the  gusts  of  worldly  engage- 
ments and  desires  have  died  down,  that  the 
seeds  of  grace  are  deposited  in  our  souls.  It  is 
then  that  our  thoughts  are  free  to  recognise 
reasons  of  humility  and  causes  of  thankfulness. 
It  is  then  that  the  thought  of  God  resumes  its 
place  in  our  souls,  and  that  the  unseen  world 
reasserts  its  hold  upon  us.  It  is  then  only  that 
the  soul,  taking  a  deliberate  survey  of  its  own 
matters,  can  discover  its  position  and  necessi- 
ties, can  assert  its  claims  and  determine  its 
future,  can  begin  the  knowledge  of  all  things 
by  knowing  itself.  So  that,  "if  there  is  a 
person,  of  whatever  age,  or  class,  or  station, 
who  will  not  be  thoughtful,  who  will  not  seri- 
ously and  honestly  consider,  there  is  no  doing 
him  any  good." 

-But  there  is  probably  no  religious  duty  so 
distasteful    as    meditation    to    persons    whose 


THE  SOWER.  23 

habits  are  formed  in  a  state  of  society  like  our 
own.  We  are,  for  the  most  part,  infected  by 
the  hastiness  and  overdone  activity  of  the  busi- 
ness world.  The  rapidity  and  exactness  of 
mechanical  action  rule  and  regulate  all  our 
personal  movements.  We  are  learning  to 
value  only  what  gives  us  speedily  and  uni- 
formly achieved  and  easily  appreciated  results. 
We  are  civilized  so  nearly  to  one  common 
level,  and  are  in  possession  of  so  many  advan- 
tages which  hitherto  have  been  the  monopoly 
of  one  class,  that  competition  is  keener  than 
ever  before ;  and  all  our  time  and  energy  are 
demanded  for  the  one  purpose  of  holding  our 
own  in  things  secular.  But  the  dissatisfaction 
with  slow  processes,  and  the  desire  to  get  a 
great  deal  through  our  hands,  must  be  checked 
when  we  come  to  the  work  of  meditation. 
There  are  processes  in  nature  which  you  can't 
hurry.  You  must  let  your  milk  stand;*i  if  you 
wish  cream.  And  meditation  is  a  process  of 
mind  whose  necessary  element  is  the  absence 
of  hurry.  We  must  let  the  mind  settle  and 
discharge  itself  of  all  irritating  distractions  and 
fevering  remembrances  or  hopes  ;  we  must 
reduce  it  to  an  equable  state,  from  which  it 
can  look  out  dispassionately  upon  things,  and 
no  longer  see  the  one  engrossing  object,  but  all 
that  concerns  us  in  due  proportion  and  real 
position.  The  soul  must  learn  to  turn  a  deaf 
ear   to   the    importunate   requirements   of   the 


// 


24  THE  SOWER. 

daily  life,  and  turn  leisurely  and  with  an  un- 
preoccupied  mind  to  God,  Were  it  only  to 
keep  the  world  at  bay,  and  teach  the  things 
of  it  their  subordinate  place,  these  meditative 
pauses  of  the  soul  were  of  the  richest  use. 

A  third  and  last  requisite  for  the  fructifica- 
tion of  the  seed  is,  according  to  Luke,  patience. 
The  husbandman  does  not  expect  to  reap  to- 
morrow what  he  sowed  to-day.  He  does  not 
incontinently  plough  up  his  field  again,  and 
sow  another  crop,  if  he  does  not  at  once  see 
the  ripe  corn.  He  watches  and  waits,  and 
through  much  that  is  disappointing  and  un- 
promising, nurses  his  plants  to  fruitfulness. 
We  also  must  learn  with  patience  to  bring 
forth  fruit ;  not  despairing  because  we  cannot 
at  once  do  all  we  would  ;  not  sinking  under  the 
hardships,  sacrifices,  failures,  sorrows,  through 
which  we  must  win  our  growth  to  true  fruit- 
bearing,  but  animating  and  cheering  our  spirits 
with  the  sure  hope  that  the  seed  we  have 
received  is  vital,  and  will  enable  us  to  produce 
at  lastTHe  sound  and  ripe  fruit  our  lives  were 
meant  to  yield.  We  must  have  patience  both 
to  endure  all  the  privations,  all  the  schooling, 
all  the  trial  of  various  kinds  which  may  be 
needful  to  bring  the  seed  of  righteousness  to 
maturity  ;  and  also  to  go  on  zealously  yielding 
the  perhaps  despised  fruits  which  are  alone  pos- 
sible to  us  now,  and  striving  always  to  strike 
our  roots  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  true  life. 


II. 


THE     TARES. 


^^  Another  parable  piit  he  forth  unto  them,  saying,  The  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  likened  unto  a  man  which  sowed  good  seed  in 
his  field:  but  while  men  slept,  his  enemy  came  and  sowed  tares 
aniong  the  wheat,  and  ivent  his  way.  But  when  the  blade  was 
sprung  up,  and  brought  forth  fruit,  then  appeared  the  tares  also. 
So  the  servajtts  of  the  householder  came  and  said  utito  him.  Sir, 
didst  not  thou  sot.u  good  seed  in  thy  field?  from  whence  then  hath 
it  tares  ?  He  said  unto  them.  An  enemy  hath  done  this.  The 
servants  said  unto  him.  Wilt  thou  thett  that  we  go  and  gather 
them  tip  ?  But  he  said,  N'ay  ;  lest  while  ye  gather  up  the  tares, 
ye  root  up  also  the  wheat  with  them.  Let  both  g)-ow  together 
iintil  the  harvest :  and  in  the  time  of  harvest  I  will  say  to  the 
reapers.  Gather  ye  together  first  the  tares,  and  bind  them  in 
bundles  to  burn  them  :  but  gather  the  wheat  into  my  barn.^'  .  .  . 
' '  Then  Jesus  sent  the  jnultitude  away,  and  tvent  into  the  house : 
and  his  disciples  came  unto  him,  saying.  Declare  unto  us  the 
parable  of  the  tares  of  the  field.  He  answered  and  said  unto 
them.  He  that  soiveth  the  good  seed  is  the  Son  of  man  ;  the  field 
is  the  world ;  the  good  seed  are  the  childi-en  of  the  kitigdom  ;  but 
the  tares  are  the  children  of  the  wicked  one ;  the  enejiiy  that 
solved  them  is  the  devil ;  the  harvest  is  the  end  of  the  world  ;  and 
the  reapers  are  the  angels.  As  therefo7-e  the  tares  are  gathered 
and  burned  in  the  fire  ;  so  shall  it  be  in  the  end  of  this  world. 
The  Son  of  man  shall  send  forth  his  angels,  and  they  shall 
gather  out  of  his  kingdom  all  things  that  offend,  and  them  which 
do  iniquity  ;  and  shall  cast  them  into  a  furnace  of  fire :  thei'e 
shall  be  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth.  Then  shall  the  righteous 
shine  forth  as  the  sun  in  the  kingdom  of  their  Father.  Who 
hath  ears  to  hear,  Id  him  //^ar."— Matt.  xiii.  24-30  ;  36-43. 


THE  TARES. 

Matt,  xiii.  24-30,  36-43. 

In  this  parable  Christ  warns  His  servants 
against  expecting  to  see  in  this  world  that 
unmixedly  good  condition  of  society  which  will 
at  length  be  brought  about  in  the  world  to 
come.  The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  to  have 
universal  sway,  it  is  to  stand  without  rival  and 
without  mixture  of  evil,  but  the  time  is  not  yet. 
Those  who  are  themselves  within  this  kingdom 
must  beware  of  acting  as  if  the  final  judgment 
were  already  passed. 

At  all  times  those  who  believe  in  God  have 
been  perplexed  by  the  fact  that  this  world  is  so 
far  from  a  condition  of  unmingled  good.  Is  it 
not  God's  world  ?  He  could  not  sow  bad  seed. 
Whence  then  the  tares }  Sometimes  this  has 
pressed  very  heavily  on  the  faith  of  men.  It 
seems  so  unaccountable  a  thing  that  the  field 
of  God  should  not  produce  an  unexceptionable 
harvest.  We  believe  that  God  created  the 
world,  and  created  it  for  a  purpose,  and  origin- 
ated whatever  was  needful  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  this  purpose.     Whatever  has  proceeded 


28  THE  TARES. 

from  Him  can  have  been  only  good.  No  de- 
generate or  noxious  grain  can  have  escaped  His 
hand.  And  yet,  look  at  the  result.  How  diffi- 
cult in  some  parts  of  the  field  to  see  any  fruit 
of  God's  sowing  ;  how  mixed  everywhere  is  the 
evidence  that  this  is  God's  field.  Is  it  not  the 
ill-cultivated  patch  of  a  careless  proprietor,  or 
the  ill-conditioned,  unworkable  tract  on  which 
the  wealthy  owner  has  not  wasted  the  labour 
which  might  better  be  expended  elsewhere .-' 
Has  God  mistaken  the  capabilities  of  His  field, 
or  does  He  not  care  to  develope  them  .''  or  does 
He  like  this  mingled  crop  ?  Does  He  not  sym- 
pathise with  His  servants  when  they  grieve 
over  this  sad  waste  ?  Has  murder  a  horror 
only  for  us .''  does  falsehood  excite  no  indigna- 
tion but  in  us .''  are  violence  and  lust,  disease 
and  wretchedness  matters  of  indifference  to 
God  .'*  What  do  we  see  in  the  world  .-'  Centuries 
of  folly,  passion,  toil,  and  anguish  ;  countries 
desolated  by  the  vices  of  their  inhabitants ; 
diseases  which  the  most  skilful  cannot  alleviate, 
nor  the  most  callous  view  without  a  shudder ; 
sorrow  and  sin  more  bitter,  more  cruel,  more 
appalling  than  any  disease.  And  this  is  the  lot 
of  God ;  here  He  delights  to  dwell.  On  no 
field  of  all  His  possessions  has  He  spent  more. 
Well  may  we  join  with  the  servants  and  say, 
"  Sir,  didst  not  Thou  sow  good  seed  in  Thy 
field  }    From  whence  then  hath  it  tares  } " 


THE  TARES.  29 

But  Christ  comes  and  inaugurates  a  new 
order  of  things,  and  all  evil  will  disappear  from 
earth.  Man's  natural  condition  is  but  the  dark 
back-ground  on  which  the  saving  grace  of  God 
may  display  its  brilliant  effects.  God  Himself 
comes  and  dwells  with  men,  rolling  back  the 
heavy  darkness  with  the  light  of  His  presence 
and  wisdom,  infusing  His  own  life  into  all. 
Now  will  the  earth  yield  her  increase.  Alas ! 
the  failure  of  the  harvest  of  God  is  in  many 
respects  even  more  conspicuous  in  the  Church 
of  Christ  than  in  the  non-Christian  world.  The 
very  method  adopted  to  redeem  the  failure  of 
the  original  creation  seems  itself  also  to  be  in 
great  part  failure.  We  are  perplexed  when  we 
find  wild  and  useless  vegetation  in  the  outlying 
wilderness,  but  when  we  enter  the  garden  of 
God,  and  within  that  redeemed  enclosure  still 
find  weeds  and  disorder,  our  perplexity  deepens 
into  dismay.  Yet  the  fact  is  that,  with  scarcely 
an  exception,  all  the  useless  and  pernicious 
plants  found  outside  Christendom  are  found 
also  within.  Where  is  there  to  be  found  a 
more  passionate  greed  of  gain,  or  a  more  self- 
indulgent  luxury,  or  a  more  thorough-going 
wordliness  than  among  the  masses  of  the  trad- 
ing Christian  races .''  The  gambling,  the  un- 
scrupulous hasting  to  be  rich,  the  cruel  and 
heart-hardening  selfishness  that  abound  in  our 
own  society  are  only  made  more  deceptive  and 


30  THE  TARES. 

dangerous   by    being    crossed   with    plants    of 
■   heavenly  origin,  and  by  disguising  their   true 
nature  under  the  flowers  of  Christian  utterances, 
occasional  charities,  seeming  repentances,  and 
ineffective   purposing   of  better   things.      Lust 
and    villainy,    fraud,    malice,    cruelty,  —  these 
noxious  plants   flourish  within  as  without  the 
Christian  pale.     And  it  is  within  Christendom 
we  must  look,  if  we  would  see  some  of  the  worst 
species  of  human  iniquity.     One  is  ashamed  to 
read  the  history  of  the    Church.     Beside  the 
good   corn   whose   full    ear   bends   in   humble 
maturity  of  service,  the  deadly  plant  of  delu- 
sive self-righteousness  rears  its  pretentious  and 
empty  head.     Ignorance,  fear,  and  self-seeking 
have   imitated    every  Christian   grace,  till   the 
whole  ground  is  covered  with  an  overgrowth 
that  hides  from  the  eye  the  healthy  plants  of 
Christ's  own  sowing.     Insincerity,  superstition, 
obscurantism,  intolerance,  pious  fraud,  the  pro- 
stitution of  the  highest  interests  of  men  to  aims 
the  most  contemptible  and  vile,  the  disguising 
of  a  rotten  character  under  a  professed   faith 
and  hope  of  the  most  elevating  and   glorious 
kind, — these  are  the  plants  which  flourish  in  the 
garden  of  God.     All  that  is  double,  all  that  is 
mean,  all  that  is  craven,  all  that  is  shallow  and 
earthly  in  human  nature,  seems  to  be  stimulated 
by  this  cultivated  soil.     The  field  which  was  to 
be  the  nursery  of  free  souls  who,  with  eyes  un- 


THE  TARES.  3  I 

scaled  to  see  the  true  beauty  of  eternal  good- 
ness, should  devote  themselves  with  courage 
and  generosity  to  the  common  good,  has  be- 
come a  paddock  in  which  the  timorous  seek 
refuge  from  a  future  they  dread,  and  in  which 
every  low  desire  thinks  it  may  burrow  with 
impunity.  Looking  at'  Christendom  as  it  actu- 
ally is,  we  may  well  ask.  Is  this  what  Christ 
sowed  .-•  Is  this  what  He  has  produced  on 
earth  ?  Is  this  the  kind  of  Christendom  He 
intended .''  "  Sir,  did'st  not  Thou  sow  good 
seed  in  Thy  field  ?  From  whence  then  hath 
it  tares  ? " 

The  explanation  of  this  disappointing  state 
of  matters  is  given  in  the  words,  "  An  enemy 
hath  done  this."  It  is  not  the  result  of  Chris- 
tianity, but  of  agencies  opposed  to  Christianity. 
To  sow  a  neighbour's  field  with  noxious  seed 
is  in  some  countries  a  common  device  for  vent- 
ing spite  or  wreaking  vengeance ;  and  a  more 
villainous  injury  can  scarcely  be  imagined.  It 
blasts  hope  ;  it  is  a  long  grievance,  daily  meet- 
ing the  eye  and  wearing  out  the  spirit  till  the 
harvest ;  it  spoils  the  crop  and  injures  the  soil. 
It  seems  to  say  that  all  this  time,  from  day  to 
day,  I  have  an  enemy  who  hates  me,  so  that 
there  can  be  no  truer  joy  to  him  than  that 
which  gives  me  sorrow.  He  cannot  be  happy 
if  I  am.  My  happiness  is  his  misery ;  my 
misery   his    greatest    happiness.      This   is   his 


32  THE  TARES. 

spirit,  the  spirit  of  the  Evil  One,  by  whom- 
soever shown ;  a  spirit  not  wholly  absent  from 
our  relations  with  other  men,  but  betrayed  even 
when  we  suppose  ourselves  to  be  animated  with 
righteous  indignation  or  warrantable  revenge. 
/"  There  is  something  characteristically  devilish 
too,  in  the  deed  being  done  "  when  men  slept ;  " 
when  the  sun  has  gone  down  and  the  wrath  of 
man  begins  to  quiet  and  cool;  when  men  of  right 
mind  are  resolving  not  to  act  in  heat,  or  be  pro- 
voked to  unworthy  and  low-toned  iniquities, 
but  to  think  over  their  matters ;  when  they  are 
perhaps  dreaming  that  they  are  once  again  boys 
together,  and  walking  folded  in  one  another's 
arms ;  when  the  stillness  and  solemn  grandeur 
of  night  rebuke  the  loud  clamour  and  petty 
wranglings  of  men  ;  when,  at  least,  a  pause  is 
given  to  sin,  this  spirit's  malignity  tires  not, 
but  like  the  beasts  of  prey  is  roused  to  a  livelier 
activity,  and  recognizes  the  darkness  and  quiet 
as  his  peculiar  season.  In  him  there  is  no  fold- 
ing of  his  hands  from  evil,  no  wearying,  no 
hesitation  in  his  course,  no  questioning  whether, 
after  all,  this  is  not  too  bad,  no  desire  to  mingle 
with  it  a  little  good,  no  desire  of  rest  or  forget- 
fulness,  but  the  grateful  memory  of  past  wicked- 
ness inciting  him  to  new  iniquities. 

Such  being  the  state  of  the  field,  and  such 
its  cause,  what  are  the  servants  to  do  ?  "  Wilt 
Thou  that  we  go  and  gather  out  these  tares  ?  " 


THE  TARES.  ^;^ 

Men   are   ever   for   prompt  measures.     "  Lord^ 

wilt  Thou  that  we  command  fire  to  come  down 
from  heaven  and  consume  them  .■*  "  Few  under- 
stand the  sparing  of  profligate  cities  for  the  sake 
of  ten  righteous  men.  We  inwardly  grudge 
that  there  should  be  so  little  difference  now 
manifested  between  God's  treatment  of  the 
righteous  and  the  wicked  ;  and  that  it  should 
only  at  intervals  appear  that  the  former  are  His 
peculiar  possession.  Did  our  feelings  rule  the 
world,  we  should  allow  very  few  tares  to  appear. 
We  cannot  wait,  but  must  anticipate  the  har- 
vest. This  and  that  other  effective  propagator 
of  falsehood,  would  it  not  be  well  if  he  were  out 
of  the  way  ?  Would  not  good  men  come  to  a 
quicker  and  more  fruitful  maturity,  were  they 
not  continually  damaged  by  the  blighting  in- 
fluences of  sceptical  literature,  worldly  society, 
superficial  religionists  ? 

"  Let  both  grow  together  until  the  harvest,'' 
is  the  law  of  the  Master.  Again  and  again  the 
Church  has,  in  the  face  of  this  parable,  taken 
upon  her  to  root  out  infidels  and  heretics.  The 
reasoning  has' been  summary:  We  are  Christ's, 
these  men  are  Satan's,  let  us  destroy  them. 
All  such  attempts  violently  to  hasten  the  con- 
summation, and  to  make  the  field  of  the  world 
appear  uniform,  have  most  disastrously  hindered 
the  growth  of  true  religion.  The  servants  have 
wrought  a  more  frightful  desolation  and  barren-  i' 
C 


34  THE  TARES. 

ness  in  the  field   than   anything   which   could 
have  resulted  from  the  existence  of  the  tares. 

It  is,  indeed,  not  always  easy  to  know 
how  far  we  should  act  upon  the  acknowledged 
fact  of  a  man's  ungodliness.  In  this  country 
there  is  a  strong  feeling  against  opinions  which 
are  believed  to  be  dangerous  ;  perhaps  it  may 
be  said  that  the  animosity  excited  by  a  man's 
profession  of  atheism  is  more  vehement  and 
active  than  that  which  immorality  excites. 
And  though,  happily,  we  do  not  now  go  so  far 
as  to  remove  such  persons  from  the  world,  we 
do  not  scruple  to  visit  them  with  serious  social 
and  civil  disabilities.  Now  this  parable  emits 
the  law  regarding  such  persons.  It  does  not 
say  the  world  is  as  it  ought  to  be  ;  it  does  not 
say  there  is  no  distinction,  or  a  very  insigni- 
ficant one,  between  good  and  bad  men,  or 
between  Christians  and  atheists  ;  but  it  enjoins 
upon  us  the  necessity  of  refraining  from  acting 
upon  this  distinction  to  the  injury  of  any. 
Punishments  must  be  inflicted  by  society  on 
its  injurious  members,  but  not  on  the  score  of 
their  ungodliness  or  unprofitableness  in  Christ's 
kingdom.  The  distinction  between  a  crimi- 
nal and  a  benefactor  of  his  country  may  not 
be  so  great  as  between  a  ripe  Christian  and 
a  full-blown  atheist ;  but  while  we  are  compelled 
to  act  upon  the  former  distinction,  and  pluck 
up  the  criminal  from  his  place,  and  banish  him 


THE  TARES.  35 

from  our  society,  the  latter  distinction  is  not 
fully  manifested,  and  must  not  be  fully  acted 
upon  in  this  world.  The  man  who  habitually 
swears,  or  leads  a  grossly  immoral  life,  or  pro- 
pagates infidelity,  may  do  a  great  deal  more 
harm  than  the  starving  boy  who  steals  a  loaf; 
but  we  are  called  upon  to  punish  the  latter  and 
not  the  former.  And  in  so  far  as  we  damage 
the  prospects,  or  asperse  the  good  name,  of  any 
man  because  we  consider  him  "  tares,"  and 
not  wheat,  in  so  far  we  fly  in  the  face  of  this 
parable. 

The  reasonableness  of  this  method  of  delay 
is  sufficiently  obvious.  Within  the  Church  v 
itself  it  is  often  impossible  even  to  be  as  sure 
as  the  servants  of  the  parable  were  that  there 
is  darnel  sown  among  the  wheat,  or  at  least  to 
discriminate  between  the  wheat  and  the  darnel. 
An  opinion,  or  a  practice,  which  is  at  first  sight 
condemned  as  scandalous  or  full  of  danger,  may 
turn  out  to  be  sound  and  wholesome.  But  if 
no  time  be  allowed  it  to  grow,  if  it  be  sum- 
marily pronounced  tares,  and  thrown  over  the 
hedge,  the  good  fruit  it  might  have  borne  is 
thrown  away  with  it.  Truth  may  be  in  the 
minority — always  is  at  first  in  the  minority  ; 
and  if,  as  the  servants  view  the  field,  they 
merely  take  a  vote  as  to  what  is  wholesome 
and  what  poisonous,  they  are  likely  enough  to 
do  evil  rather  than  good. 


36  THE  TARES. 

And  even  where  it  is  certain  that  evil  has 
sprung  up  in  the  Church,  it  is  a  further  ques- 
tion whether  it  should  be  summarily  removed. 
This  parable,  it  is  true,  is  not  the  guide  for  the 
action  of  the  rulers  of  the  Church  towards  its 
members  ;  but,  indirectly,  a  warning  against 
hasty  action  is  given  to  those  in  authority. 
False  doctrine  may  sometimes  be  more  easily 
got  rid  of,  if  it  be  regarded  in  silence,  or  with 
a  few  words  of  convincing  exposure,  than  if  it 
be  signalized  with  assault.  No  man  who  had 
any  regard  for  his  field  would  carry  a  seeding 
thistle  through  every  part  of  it,  and  give  it  a 
shake  in  every  corner. 

But  our  Lord  Himself  in  the  parable  assigns 
two  reasons  for  this  abstinence  from  immediate 
action.  First,  you  are  not  to  root  up  tares, 
because  you  will  inevitably  root  up  good  corn 
with  them.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  pull  up 
a  single  stalk  of  corn  by  the  root ;  you  may 
break  it  off,  but  if  you  take  up  its  root  you  are 
almost  sure  to  bring  away  with  it  a  number 
of  other  stalks  and  a  mass  of  soil.  The  one 
root  refuses  to  be  detached  from  the  rest — a 
striking  representation  of  what  happens  when 
injury  is  inflicted  on  any  member  of  society. 
You  cannot  injure  one  man,  and  one  only.  In 
him  you  strike  his  children,  his  friends,  his 
followers  if  he  be  a  man  of  influence.  No 
man    is   so   forlorn    that   none   will    be    made 


THE  TARES.  37 

lonelier  by  his  death,  or  be  embittered  or  sad- 
dened by  his  misfortune.     We  live  for  the  most 
part  in  little  circles,  bound  one  to  the  other  by 
indissoluble   relationships,    nurtured    from    one 
soil,  and    matured   by  common    interests   and 
feelings.     And    these  circles  are  not   separate 
from  one  another,  but  some  member  of  your 
circle   belongs   also   to    another ;    and    so    the 
whole  world  is  linked  together,  and  you  cannot 
put  forth  your  hand  and  strike  any  man  whose 
pain  shall  not  be  felt  by  others,  nor  thrust  him 
from  you  without  repelling  all  who  are  attached 
to  him.      And   of  those  who  are  attached  to 
him,  are  you  sure  there  are  none  who  belong 
to  the  kingdom,  no  little  blade  springing  up  by 
his   root,  which,  did    you    let   it   grow,   would 
abound  in  fruit .''     For,  that  a  man  is  evil  him- 
self, is  no  proof  that  all  his  connections   are 
evil.     On    the  contrary,   an  ungodly  man   will 
often  cling  to  those  who  belong  to  the   king- 
dom, as  if  somehow  they  must  find   entrance 
for  him  along  with  themselves.     A  father  who 
cannot   change   his   own   ways    nor    yield    the 
opinions   of    his    youth,    seeks   to   protect   his 
children   from    the   influences    that    destroyed 
himself,  and  to  atone  for  his   own  barrenness 
by  their   productiveness.     Some  who  are  held 
as  by  a  terrible  fatality  from  winning  the  king- 
dom, will  yet  entreat  others  to  use  violence  to 
enter  it.     Even  the  most  profligate  have  com- 


38  THE  TARES. 

monly  some  one  ripe  and  living  soul  devoted 

to   them,   who   could  wish   that   himself  were 

accursed  for   their   kinsmen   according   to   the 

flesh. 

But  this  first  reason  rests  upon  the  second  : 

and  that  is,  that  the  time  is  coming  when  the 
■^         .    .       . 
'^     •  distinction  between  the  wheat  and  the  tares  is 

to  be  acted  upon.     Only  let  a  man  accept  the 

account  here  given  of  the  end  of  the  tares,  and 

he  will  have  very  little  desire  to  anticipate  or 

hasten  ^hat  end.     When  God  says,  "  Vengeance 

is  mine,  I^. will  repay,"  we  feel  that  the  darkest 

injustice   arVd  wrong-doing  will    be   adequately 

taken  account  of     When  we  reflect  that  what 

has    roused    our    indignation    has    also    been 

observed   by  God,  and  will  be  dealt  with  by 

Him,   not  only  is   our   indignation    mitigated, 

but,  in  view  of  the  judgment  of  God,  our  pity 

\         is  moved  towards  the  transgressor.     We  were 

about  to  punish  as  if  we  were  the  ofiended  party, 

as    if  we   saw  the    matter   in    all    its   bearings 

and  could  justly  judge  it,  and  as  if  we  had  the 

right  punishment  at  hand  ;  but  when  this  final 

judgment  looms  in  sight  we  see  how  different 

are   God's   judgments  and    God's  punishments 

from    ours,    and    an    awful    pity   possesses   us. 

Believe   that   the   bar   of   God   lies  across  the 

path   of  each    of  us,   believe  that   a  veritable 

sifting  of  men  is  to  be,  and  that  all  men  are 

to  be  allotted   to  suitable  destinies,  and  com- 


TIIF,  TARES.  39 

passion  will  extinguish  every  other  feeling  you 
may  have  cherished  towards  the  wicked.  The 
position  in  which  we  in  this  life  are  is  full  of 
awe,  and  fitted  also  to  engender  in  us  the 
tenderest  feelings  one  towards  another^ — grow- 
ing up  as  wc  are  side  by  side,  but  with  destinies 
perhaps  immeasurably  wide  asunder ;  here  for 
a  little  united  root  to  root,  and  yet,  it  may  be, 
severed  to  all  eternity.  Could  any  position  be 
better  calculated  to  banish  from  our  minds  all 
indifference  to  one  another's  prospects,  all 
sullen  and  revengeful  feelings,  all  variance  and 
hatred,  and  to  quicken  within  us  a  true  affec- 
tion and  compassion,  a  considerate  and  helpful 
tenderness  ? 

The  bearing  of  this  parable,  then,  on  our- 
selves cannot  be  mistaken.  Wheat  and  darnel, 
it  says,  are  almost  identical  in  appearance,  and 
are,  in  the  meantime,  treated  as  if  the  one  was 
as  valuable  as  the  other;  but  let  them  grow, 
and  the  fruit  will  prove  that  the  root  principle 
of  the  one  is  different  as  possible  from  the 
other ;  the  one  is  good  food,  the  other  poison. 
And  they  will  eventually  be  treated  accord- 
ingly. Everything  must  ultimately  find  its 
place  according  to  its  nature  ;  not  according 
to  its  appearance,  nor  according  to  any  preten- 
sions put  fonvard  in  its  behalf,  but  only  and 
simply  according  to  its  own  real  character  and 
quality.     Each  of  us  is  growing  to  something, 


40  THE  TARES. 

and  from  some  root.  No  one  may  be  able  to 
say — perhaps  you  yourself  are  unable  to  say — 
to  which  kind  and  to  what  root  you  belong; 
perhaps  you  cannot  confidently  affirm  what  it  is 
to  which  you  are  growing,  but  beneath  all 
appearances  there  is  in  you  a  real  character,  a 
root  that  determines  what  you  shall  grow  to. 
As  we  grow  up  in  society  together,  one  man  is 
in  the  main  very  like  another.  Of  two  of  your 
friends,  it  may  be  the  one  who  makes  least 
profession  of  religion  that  you  would  go  to  in  a 
^difficulty  in  which  much  generous  help  and  toil 
are  needed.  Take  a  regiment  of  soldiers  or  a 
ship's  crew,  and  you  may  find  the  ungodly  as 
brave  and  self-sacrificing  in  action,  as  obser- 
vant of  discipline  as  the  others.  There  may  be 
little  to  show  that  there  is  a  radical  difference 
in  character  ;  sometimes,  of  course,  this  differ- 
ence is  very  rapidly  manifested,  but  in  general 
there  is  so  much  similarity  as  to  make  it 
notorious  that  the  Church  is  not  distinctly 
marked  off  from  the  world.  Society  does 
resemble  a  field  in  which  the  wheat  and  the 
darnel  are  still  in  the  blade,  and  can  be  dis- 
criminated only  by  a  very  careful  observer. 

So  that,  first,  this  is  apt  to  make  the  darnel 
think  itself  as  good  as  the  wheat.  If  we  merely 
look  at  appearances  we  are  apt  to  think  that, 
take  us  all  round,  there  is  not  much  to  choose 
between  the  wheat  and  us.     We  see  in  truly 


THE  TARES.  41 

Christian    people  evil    tempers,    a    revengeful, 
tyrannical,  ungenerous  spirit,  we  detect  bitter- 
ness and  meanness  in  them,  sometimes  sensu- 
ality, and   a  keen    eye  for  worldly  advantage, 
and  we  are  encouraged  to  believe  that  really  we 
stand  comparison  with  them  very  favourably. 
So  no  doubt  you  do.      The  world   would    be 
insufferable   if  all    men    had    the   spirit  which 
many    Christians   show.      But  that  is  not  the 
point.     The  question   is  not  whether  you   are 
not  at  present,  to  all  appearance,  as  useful  and 
pleasant  a  member  of  society  as  they;  but  the 
question  is,  whether  there  is  not  that  in  them 
which  will  grow  to  good,  and  whether  there  is 
not  that  in  you  which  will  grow  to  evil.      Do 
you,   that   is   to  say,  sufficiently  consider  this 
parable,   which    most   frankly  admits    that   at 
present,  so  far  as  things  have  yet  grown,  there 
may  be  no  very  marked  difference  between  the 
children    of  the  kingdom    and    others,    but  at 
the  same  time  emphatically  declares  that  the 
root  is  different,  and  that,  therefore,  the  life  is 
really  of  a  different  quality,  and  will  in  the  long 
run  appear  to  be  different }     The  question  is, 
what  is  your  root  .-*    What  is  it  that  is  producing 
the  actual  life  you  are  making,  and  the  actual 
character  you  are  growing  into  .-*     What  is  the 
motive  power  .-•      Is  it  mere  desire  to  get  on, 
or  craving  for  a  good  position  among  men .''    Is 
it  respect  for  your  own  good  name  .-*  or  are  you 


/^ 


42  THE  TARES. 

a  child  of  the  kingdom  ?  Are  you  the  result 
of  the  word  of  the  kingdom  ?  that  is,  is  your 
conduct  being  more  and  more  animated  and 
regulated,  and  is  your  character  being  more 
and  more  formed,  by  the  belief  that  God  calls 
you  to  live  for  Him  and  for  eternity  ?  Do  you 
like  this  world  really  better  than  one  in  which 
you  have  a  hope  only  of  spiritual  joys,  of  true 
fellowship  with  God,  and  holiness  of  heart  ? 
Can  you  make  good  to  your  own  mind,  that 
in  some  quite  intelligible  sense  you  are  rooted 
in  Christ,  and  grow  out  of  Him  ?  It  is  the  root 
you  live  from  which  will  eventually  show  itself 
in  you,  and  determine  your  eternal  position. 

Again,  the  urgency  of  the  call  to  Christ  is 
deadened  by  the  fact  that  we  are  not  treated 
differently  at  present.  Men  argue:  we  get  on 
well  enough  now,  and  the  future  will  take  care 
of  itself  But  this  is  to  brush  aside  at  a  blow 
all  that  we  are  told  of  the  connection  of  the 
present  with  the  future.  This  state  bears  to  a 
coming  world  the  relation  which  seed-time 
bears  to  harvest.  No  violence  will  be  done  to 
you  at  present  to  convince  you  that  you  are 
useless  to  God.  No  judgment  will  be  declared, 
no  punishment  inflicted  —  that  were  out  of 
season,  for  in  this  life  we  are  left  to  choose 
freely  and  without  compulsion,  whether  we 
desire  to  be  in  God's  kingdom  or  not.  In  this 
life  you  must  judge  yourself  and  do  violence  to 


THE  TARES.  43 

yourself.  But  this  argues  nothing  regarding  the 
future  Hfe.  It  is  only  then  a  beginning  is  made 
of  treatment  corresponding  to  character. 

Lastly,  not  only  is  the  darnel  apt  to  think 
itself  as  good  as  the  wheat,  but  the  wheat  is  apt 
to  think  itself  no  better  than  the  darnel.  You 
can  never  outstrip  others  in  good  as  you  would 
like.  You  are  troubled  because  they  seem  to 
be  as  regular,  as  zealous,  as  successful  in  duty 
as  you.  Possibly,  too,  they  are  not  only  as 
judicious  in  conduct,  as  generous,  as  true,  of  as 
good  report  as  yourselves,  but,  moreover,  exer- 
cise a  healthier  influence  than  you  do  on  those 
they  live  with.  Some  natural  infirmity  of  temper 
has  fixed  its  indelible  brand  on  you,  something 
which  makes  you  less  attractive  and  less  in- 
fluential than  you  might  otherwise  be.  Or  per- 
haps you  are  choked  by  uncongenial  surround- 
ings, kept  down  in  growth  by  the  tares  around 
you,  often  betrayed  into  sins  which  better  com- 
pany would  have  made  impossible.  Are  you 
somehow  continually  kept  back  from  growing 
to  all  you  feel  you  might  grow  to  .■*  Is  there  good 
in  you  that  has  never  yet  been  elicited  .-*  Look 
then  to  the  end,  when  "the  righteous  shall 
shine  forth  as  the  sun  in  the  kingdom  of  their 
Father."  Be  sure  only  that  there  is  that  in  you 
which  will  shine  forth  if  the  hindrances  and 
blinds   are   removed.     There  is  no  change   to 


44  THE  TARES. 

pass  on  the  wheat ;  but  only  the  tares  shall  be 
taken  away,  and  it  will  stand  revealed,  good 
corn.  Bring-  forth  your  fruit  in  patience  :  main- 
tain the  real  distinction  between  good  and  evil, 
and  at  last  it  will  be  apparent. 


III. 
THE  MUSTARD  SEED. 


^^  Another  parable  put  he  forth  tmto  them,  saying.  The  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  like  to  a  grain  of  tmistard  seed,  which  a  man 
took,  and  sowed  in  his  field:  which  indeed  is  the  least  of  all  seeds: 
but  when  it  is  grown,  it  is  the  greatest  among  herbs,  and  bccometh 
a  tree,  so  that  the  birds  of  the  air  come  and  lodge  in  the  branches 
thereof.'" — Matt,  xiii,  31,  32. 


THE  MUSTARD  SEED. 

Matt.  xiii.  31,  32. 

Neither  the  parable  of  the  Sower  nor  the 
parable  of  the  Tares  was  calculated  to  elate 
those  who  were  interested  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  The  hindrances  and  disappointments 
incident  to  the  establishment  of  that  kingdom 
were  too  plainly  stated  to  be  gratifying.  It  was 
not  exhilarating  to  the  hearers  of  these  parables 
to  learn  that  the  state  of  things  to  which  they 
had  eagerly  looked  forward  as  the  realization 
of  their  ideal,  and  the  embodiment  of  all  ex- 
cellence, could  not  be  actually  achieved  on 
earth.  In  this  parable  of  the  mustard  seed 
our  Lord  turns  the  other  side  of  the  picture, 
and  affirms  that  the  little  movement  already 
stirring  society  would  grow  to  vast  dimensions  ; 
that  the  influences  He  was  introducing  so  un- 
obtrusively into  human  history  were  vital,  and 
would  one  day  command  attention  and  be  pro- 
ductive of  untold  good.  He  does  not  anticipate 
the  parable  of  the  leaven,  and  explain  the  pre- 
cise mode  of  the  spread  of  Christianity,  but 
merely   predicts   the   fact    of  its   growth.     He 


4S  THE  MUSTARD  SEED. 

invites  us  to  compare  the  visible  cause  with 
the  visible  result ;  He  directs  our  thoughts  to 
the  two  facts  of  the  small  beginning  and  the 
ultimate  grandeur  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
and  suggests  that  the  reason  of  this  growth  is 
that  the  originating  principle  of  the  kingdom 
has  vitality  in  it. 

It  is  the  study  of  the  laws  of  growth  which, 
in  recent  years,  has  given  so  great  an  impulse 
to  human  knowledge  and  to  the  delight  men 
find  in  nature.  How  this  world  has  come  to 
be  what  it  is;  its  rude  and  unpromising  be- 
ginnings, and  its  steady  progress  towards  per- 
fection ;  the  development  of  an  infinitely  various 
and  complicated  life  from  a  few  rudimentary 
forms ; — these  have  been  the  commonest  sub- 
jects of  scientific  investigation.  It  has  been 
shown  that  everything  we  are  ourselves  now 
connected  with  has  grown  out  of  something 
which  went  before ;  that  nothing  is  self-origin- 
ated. The  growth  of  languages  and  religions, 
of  customs  and  forms  of  government,  of  races 
and  nations,  has  been  traced  ;  and  a  new  interest 
has  thus  been  imparted  to  all  things,  for  every- 
thing is  found  to  have  a  history  which  carries 
us  back  to  the  most  unlikely  roots,  and  is  full 
of  surprises.  Creation  excites  wonder ;  but 
growth  excites  an  intelligent  admiration  and 
wonder  as  well.  For,  after  all  investigation 
and    exposition    of    its    laws,   growth    remains 


THE  MUSTARD  SEED.  49 

marvellous.  That  the  swift-flying  bird,  sensi- 
tive to  the  remotest  atmospheric  changes,  should 
grow  out  of  the  motionless,  strictly  encased  egg, 
is  always  an  astonishment.  That  the  wide- 
branching  tree,  hiding  the  sky  with  its  foliage, 
should  be  the  product  of  a  small,  insignificantly 
shaped  seed,  never  ceases  to  excite  wonder. 
Nothing  could  well  be  more  unlike  the  bird 
than  the  egg ;  nothing  less  like  a  tree  than  the 
seed  it  has  grown  out  of;  but  by  an  unseen 
and  ultimately  inscrutable  force  the  egg  be- 
comes a  bird,  and  the  seed  grows  into  a  tree. 
To  see  the  stateliest  pile  of  building  filling  the 
space  which  before  was  empty,  makes  on  ap- 
peal to  the  imagination  :  that  kind  of  increase 
we  seem  to  understand  ;  stone  is  added  to  stone 
by  the  will  and  toil  of  man.  But  when  we  look 
at  the  deeply-rooted  and  wide-branching  tree, 
and  think  of  the  tiny  seed  from  which  all  this 
sprang  without  human  will  or  toil,  but  by  an 
internal  vitality  of  its  own,  we  are  confronted 
by  the  most  mysterious  and  fascinating  of  all 
things,  the  life  that  lies  unseen  in  nature. 

In  the  difference,  then,  between  the  beginning 
and  the  maturity  of  our  Lord's  kingdom  there  was 
nothing  exceptional.  The  same  difference  may 
be  observed  in  the  case  of  almost  every  person 
or  influence  that  has  greatly  helped  mankind. 
Many  of  the  inventions  to  which  we  are  hourly 
indebted  entered  the  world  like  little  seeds 
D 


( 


50  THE  MUSTARD  SEED. 

casually  blown  to  their  resting-place ;  they 
floated  on,  unheeded,  unobserved,  till  at  last, 
apparently  by  the  merest  chance,  they  caught 
somewhere,  and  became  productive.  It  is  the 
very  commonness  of  this  career,  from  small  to 
great,  to  which  our  Lord  appeals  for  the  en- 
couragement of  His  disciples.  Here  is  the 
least  among  seeds  ;  it  flies  before  your  breath  ; 
it  is  not  noticed  in  the  balance ;  a  miser  would 
scarce  trouble  himself  to  blow  it  from  the  scale ; 
the  hungry  bird  will  not  pause  in  his  flight  to 
pick  it  up ;  but  let  a  few  years  go  by,  and  that 
seed  shall  have  become  a  tree,  in  which  the 
birds  of  the  air  may  lodge,  and  which  no  force 
can  uproot.  The  seed,  as  you  now  see  it,  is 
doing  and  can  do  nothing  that  the  tree  does ;  it 
casts  no  shade,  it  shelters  no  birds,  it  yields  no 
fruit  or  timber,  it  does  not  fill  the  eye  and  com- 
plete the  landscape ;  but  give  it  time,  and  it 
will  do  all  these  things,  as  nothing  else  will  or 
can. 

In  this  parable,  then,  our  Lord  gave  expression 
to  three  of  the  ideas  which  frequently  recurred 
to  His  mind  regarding  the  kingdom  of  heaven  : 
— 1st.  Its  present  apparent  insignificance;  2d. 
Its  vitality  ;  3d.  Its  future  grandeur. 

I.  Our  Lord  recognized  that  to  the  unin- 
structed,  ordinary  observer  His  kingdom  must 
in  its  origin  appear  insignificant,  "  the  least  of 
all  seeds."     It  might  seem  less  likely  to  prevail. 


THE  MUSTARD  SEED.  5  I 

and  to  become  a  universal  benefit,  than  some 
other  contemporary  systems  or  influences.  In  ■ 
point  of  fact,  so  extravagant  did  Christ's  claim 
to  be  a  benefactor  of  the  race  appear,  that  those 
who  wished  to  mock  Him  could  devise  no  more 
telling  and  bitter  taunt  than  to  bow  before  Him 
and  salute  Him  as  a  king.  That  such  a  tame- 
spirited,  forsaken  person  should  attain  a  place 
among  the  strong-handed  rulers  of  the  world 
seemed  altogether  too  preposterous.  The  Roman 
magistrate,  before  whom  He  was  arraigned  on 
the  charge  of  rebellion  against  Csesar,  found  it 
difficult  to  treat  the  charge  seriously.  Open  the 
histories  of  His  time,  and  your  eyes  are  dazzled 
with  the  magnificence  of  other  monarchs,  and 
the  magnitude  of  their  works,  but  He  is  barely 
named — so  little  known,  that  He  is  sometimes 
misnamed  through  sheer  ignorance.  It  was  no 
discredit  to  the  most  learned  and  accurate  of 
historians  to  know  nothing  of  Jesus  Christ. 
This  obscurity  and  insignificance  would  not 
have  been  disconcerting  to  the  followers  of  a 
mere  teacher,  for  the  best  teaching  is  rarely 
appreciated  in  the  first  generation  ;  but  as  our 
Lord  claimed  to  be  a  lawgiver  and  real  king, 
it  certainly  did  not  bode  well  for  His  kingdom 
that  during  His  life-time  so  few  obeyed  or  even 
knew  Him. 

The  very  circumstance  that  He  was  a  Jew 
might  have  seemed  to  those  of  His  contempo- 


52  THE  MUSTARD  SEED. 

raries  who  were  best  able  to  judge,  enough  in 
itself  to  ensure  the  defeat  of  any  purpose   of 
universal  sway.     The  exclusive  character  of  the 
religious  and  social  ideas  of  the  Jew,  and  the 
hostility  with  which  this  exclusiveness  was  re- 
turned  by  other  nations,   seemed   to   make   it 
most  improbable  that  all  men  should  be  brought 
into  one  common  brotherhood  and  community 
by  a  Jew.     Moreover,   Jesus    Himself  was  no 
Hellenist,  whose  Jewish  ideas  might  have  been 
modified  by  Greek  learning  and  cosmopolitan 
associations  and  customs  ;  but  He  was  a  Jew 
of  purest  blood  and  upbringing,  educated  in  all 
Jewish  customs  and  ideas,  and  subjected  to  the 
ordinary  Jewish  influences,  never  visiting  other 
lands,  and  rarely  speaking  to  any  but  His  own 
countrymen.     So  far  as  we  know,  He  made  no 
enquiries  into  the  state  of  other  countries,  and 
read  no  books  to  inform  Himself;  He  did  not 
send  emissaries  to  Rome,  inviting  men  to  con- 
sider His  claims  ;  He  made  no  overtures  of  any 
kind  to  men  at  a  distance; — that  is  to  say,  He 
did  not  present  Himself  as  a  grown  tree  branch- 
ing friendly  outwards,  to  which  might  flock  the 
birds  of  the  air  which  had  been  driven  out  by 
the  winter  of  their  own  land,  and  had  wandered 
far  in  search  of  food,  and  were  weary  from  their 
long  flight. 
—    Even  among  His  own  people,  from  whom  He 
might  have  expected    a   hearty  welcome   and 


THE  MUSTARD  SEED.  53 

loyal  advocacy,  He  met  with  either  contemptu- 
ous neglect  or  positive  opposition.  He  obtained 
no  recognized  standing,  even  among  the  Jews. 
Those  who  formed  the  opinions  of  society  pro- 
nounced Him  an  impostor,  and  the  people  were 
so  completely  convinced  by  them,  that  they 
clamoured  for  His  death.  The  few  who  were 
attached  to  Him,  and  who  thoroughly  believed 
in  His  sincerity  and  spiritual  greatness,  per- 
sistently misunderstood  the  essential  parts  of 
His  purpose  and  teaching.  They  could  not, 
even  to  the  last,  rid  their  minds  of  the  natural 
impression  that  His  being  crucified  as  a  male- 
factor was  the  end  of  all  their  hopes.  And  is 
it  not  probable  that  even  Jesus  Himself,  as  He 
was  ignominiously  hurried  to  His  death  by  a 
handful  of  Roman  soldiers,  may  have  been 
tempted  to  think.  What  is  there  in  this  to 
regenerate  a  world .''  Will  such  an  everyday 
incident  even  be  remembered  next  Passover  ? 
Certainly,  so  far  as  appearances  went,  and  in 
the  judgment  of  all  who  saw  and  were  interested, 
His  kingdom  was  at  that  time  comparable  to 
anything  but  a  firmly-rooted  and  flourishing 
tree. 

After  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  His  kingdom 
became  slightly  more  visible,  but  its  prospects 
must  still  have  seemed  extremely  doubtful.  A 
handful  of  men,  none  of  them  having  much  weight 
in  the  community,  or  being  in  any  way  remark- 


54  THE  MUSTARD  SEED. 

able,  compose  the  force  which  is  to  conquer  the 
world.  To  win  a  single  soul  to  an  unpopular 
cause  is  difficult,  but  these  men  were  summoned 
to  the  task  of  converting  all  nations.  They  had 
no  ancient  institutions,  no  well-tried  methods, 
no  strong  associations,  no  funds,  no  friends  to 
back  them.  On  the  contrary,  everything  seemed 
banded  against  them.  Teachers,  who  disagreed 
in  all  else,  combined  to  scorn  the  folly  of  the 
cross ;  emperors,  who  would  allow  every  other 
form  of  religion,  could  not  tolerate  that  of  Jesus. 
Everywhere  the  world  was  already  preoccupied 
by  ancient  and  jealously-guarded  religions,  by 
habits,  and  ideas,  and  traditions  adverse  to  the 
spirit  of  Christ.  The  instrument,  too,  which 
was  to  convert  the  world  seemed  as  powerless 
as  the  men  who  were  to  wield  it.  They  were 
to  tell  of  Jesus,  of  His  life,  His  death,  His 
resurrection.  Was  it  not  vain  to  expect  that 
remote  and  barbarous  races  would  become  so 
attached  to  a  person  they  had  never  seen,  that 
they  would  govern  their  passions  and  amend 
their  lives  for  His  sake  ?  Was  it  likely  that, 
on  the  word  of  unknown  men,  the  person  of 
an  unknown  man  should  become  the  centre 
of  the  world,  commanding  the  adherence  of  all, 
and  imparting  to  all  the  most  powerful  influ- 
ences ? 

2.  But  at  the  very  moment  when  our  Lord 
was   most   conscious    of  the   poor    figure   His 


THE  MUSTARD  SEED.  55 

kingdom  made  in  the  eyes  of  men,  He  was 
absolutely  confident  of  its  final  greatness,  be- 
cause, small  as  it  was,  it  ivas  of  the  nature  of 
seed.  It  had  a  vital  force  in  it  that  nothing 
could  kill ;  a  germinating  and  expansive  power 
which  would  only  be  quickened  by  opposition. 
His  own  death,  the  obscurity  and  limitation  to 
which  His  cause  was  at  first  subjected,  were 
not.  He  knew,  the  first  symptoms  of  permanent 
oblivion,  but  were  only  the  sowing  of  the  seed. 
He  was  no  more  anxious  than  the  farmer  is  who,  \ 
for  the  first  week  or  two,  sees  no  appearance  of  / 
his  plants  above  ground.  Our  Lord  knew  that, 
could  He  only  get  His  kingdom  accepted  at 
even  one  small  point  of  earth,  the  growth  would 
inevitably  and  in  good  time  follow. 

There   are    certain    human    qualities,    ideas, ' 
utterances,  and  acts  which  are  vital  and  must 
grow.     They  have  in  them  an  expansive,  living 
energy ;  they  sink  into  the  hearts  and  minds  of 
men,  and  propagate  a  lasting  influence.     What,' 
then,  is  the  vital  element  in  Christianity  }    What 
is  it  that  has  given  permanence  and  growth  to 
the  kingdom  of  Christ  1     What  did  Christ  plant 
that  no  one  else  has  planted  .-'     What  is  it  that 
keeps  Him  in  undying  remembrance,  and  gathers 
from  each  new  generation  fresh  subjects  for  His 
kingdom  t     It  is  not  the  wisdom  and   beauty   4\^ 
of  His  teaching.     That  might  have  led  us  to 
immortalize  His  words  by  reprinting  and  quot- 


56  THE  MUSTARD  SEED. 

ing  them.  Neither  is  it  solely  the  holiness  of 
His  life,  or  the  love  He  showed.  These  might 
have  kindled  in  us  admiration,  but  could  never 
have  prompted  that  real  allegiance  which  is 
implied  in  a  kingdom.  But  it  is  chiefly  the 
revelation  of  God  in  Him  which  draws  men  to 
Him.  In  His  death  and  resurrection  we  get 
assurance  of  Divine  love  and  Divine  power 
abiding  in  Him.  It  is  God  in  Him  that  draws 
us.  We  cleave  to  Him,  because  through  Him 
we  are  lifted  to  God  and  to  eternity.  In  His 
brief  career  He  gives  us  a  perception  of  the 
reality  of  the  spiritual  world,  the  permanence 
of  the  individual,  and  the  nearness  and  love  of 
God,  which  nothing  else  gives  us.  In  Him  men 
meet  a  God  satisfying  all  their  expectations;  so 
devoted  to  their  interests,  that  He  lives  and 
dies  with  them,  and  for  them ;  so  hopeful  re- 
garding them,  that  He  proclaims  pardon  and 
newness  of  life  to  sinners ;  so  victorious  over 
all  the  evils  weighing  upon  man,  that  He  con- 
quers death  itself,  and  throws  open  to  all  the 
gates  of  life  everlasting. 

The  seed  is  the  highest  product  of  the  plant : 
the  fruit  is  but  the  accompaniment  of  the  seed  ; 
it  is  into  the  seed  that  the  plant  each  year  puts 
its  life.  So  in  man,  the  ripest  product  of  the 
individual,  the  actions  or  words  into  which  he 
gathers  up  his  whole  character  and  strength, — 
it  is  these  which  are  vital  and  germinant.     The 


THE  MUSTARD  SEED.  57 

vital  clement  in  the  life  of  Christ  cannot  be 
mistaken :  it  was,  in  a  word,  the  Divine  Son 
giving  Himself  for  us ;  God  expressing  the 
fulness  of  Divine  sympathy  and  sacrifice  in 
our  behalf — a  seed,  surely,  from  which  great 
things  must  spring. 

3.  Our  Lord  points  to  the  eventual  greatness 
of  His  kingdom.  The  despised  seed,  ground 
into  the  soil  under  the  heel  of  contempt  and 
hatred,  will  become  a  tree,  whose  leaves  shall 
be  for  the  healing  of  the  nations.  The  disciples 
do  not  seem  to  have  gathered  from  this  parable 
the  encouragement  which  was  laid  up  for  them 
in  it ;  but  an  instructed  onlooker  might  have 
admonished  the  crucifiers  of  the  Lord  that  they 
were  fulfilling  His  words — "That  cross  which 
you  are  setting  up,  and  which  you  will  take 
down  before  the  sun  is  set,  shall  stand  in  the 
thought  of  countless  millions  as  the  point  of 
earth  most  illuminated  by  the  light  of  heaven  ; 
that  blood  which  you  are  shedding,  as  you 
would  pour  water  out  of  your  way  on  the 
ground,  is  to  be  recognised  by  your  fellowmen 
and  by  God  as  precious,  as  that  by  which  the 
souls  of  men  are  redeemed  and  purified." 

The  kingdom  of  heaven  has  indeed  become 
a  tree.  It  would  be  difficult  to  count  even  the 
greater  branches  of  it ;  difficult  to  number  the 
various  twigs  which  depend  upon  the  central 
stem  ;  impossible  to  count  the  leaves  or  to  form 


58  THE   MUSTARD  SEED. 

an  idea  of  the  fruit  which,  through  past  years, 
has  gradually  ripened  and  fallen  from  it.  This 
religion  which  emanated  from  a  country  so 
detested  by  the  surrounding  nations  that  they 
might  be  expected  to  say  of  it,  as  the  Jews 
themselves  of  Nazareth,  "  Can  any  good  thing 
come  out  of  Judea  .''  " — this  religion  propagated 
by  Jews  who  had  become  Christians,  so  that 
being  excommunicated  by  their  own  country- 
men, and  naturally  hated  by  all  other  people, 
they  seemed  the  most  unlikely  instruments  to 
commend  new  ideas  ;  this  religion  which  could 
offer  no  high  posts  or  secular  rewards,  and 
numbered  few  wise,  wealthy,  or  noble  among 
its  adherents ;  which  would  not  tolerate  other 
religions,  and  yet  proclaimed  doctrines  which 
excited  the  ridicule  of  the  educated ;  which 
demanded  from  all  alike,  not  only  an  abso- 
lutely pure  morality  and  a  repulsive  and  hum- 
bling self-renunciation,  but  a  newness  of  spirit 
impossible  to  the  natural  man;  this  religion  which 
seemed  to  have  everything  against  it,  which 
seemed  like  a  sickly  child  which  it  was  scarcely 
worth  calling  by  a  name  to  be  remembered  as 
a  living  thing, — this  has  grown  to  be  the  greatest 
of  all  powers  for  good  in  the  world.  The  seed 
determines  the  character  of  all  that  springs 
from  it ;  the  quality  of  the  fruit  and  its  abun- 
dance may  vary  with  the  nature  of  the  soil  and 
with  the  presence  or  absence  of  careful  cultiva- 


THE  MUSTARD  SEED.  59 

tion  and  other  advantages,  but  the  tree  will 
still  be  recognisable  as  of  that  kind  to  which 
the  seed  belonged.  And  as  the  seed  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  was  love  and  holiness  and 
Divine  power,  so  have  similar  fruits  been  borne 
by  men  wherever  the  kingdom  has  come.  The 
outmost  branch,  looking  in  an  opposite  direc- 
tion from  the  distant  branches  on  the  other 
side  of  the  tree,  and  apparently  quite  dissoci- 
ated from  these  branches,  is  still  identified  with 
them  by  the  fruit  it  bears.  Wherever  in  all 
these  past  ages,  and  in  all  the  scattered  countries 
of  Christendom,  there  has  been  a  Christ-like 
life  ;  wherever  sinners  have  been  drawn  to  love 
God  and  hate  their  sin  through  the  knowledge 
of  the  cross  ;  wherever  in  hope  of  a  blessed 
immortality  men  have  borne  the  sorrows  of 
time  without  bitterness,  and  committed  their 
dead  to  the  grave  in  expectation  of  a  life  be- 
yond,— there  the  seed  Christ  sowed  has  been 
showing  its  permanent  vitality. 

The  figure  of  the  tree  inevitably  suggests 
other  considerations  regarding  the  Church,  be- 
sides those  which  are  directly  taught  in  the 
parable.  The  tree,  with  its  single  stem  and 
countless  branches,  is  only  too  true  a  picture 
of  the  diverging  belief  and  worship  of  those 
who  own  a  common  root  in  Christ.  Sometimes, 
indeed,  one  is  tempted  to  compare  the  Church 
to  one  of  those  trees  in  which   the   branches 


6o  THE  MUSTARD  SEED. 

diverge  as  soon  as  they  appear  above  ground, 
so  that  you  cannot  tell  whether  the  tree  is 
really  one  or  many.  In  some  of  its  aspects, 
again,  the  Church  resembles  the  huge  tree  that 
stands  on  the  village  green,  looking  benignly 
down  on  the  joys  of  the  young,  and  giving 
shade  and  shelter  to  the  aged,  seeing  genera- 
tion after  generation  drop  away  like  its  own 
leaves,  but  itself  living  through  all  with  the 
freshness  of  its  early  days ;  its  lower  bark  only 
marked  by  the  ambition  of  those  who  have 
sought  to  identify  their  now  scarcely  legible 
names  with  its  undecaying  life,  but  whose  work 
has  after  all  not  entered  into  the  life  of  the  tree, 
but  only  marred  its  external  hull.  Again,  we 
see  that  some  of  the  lowest,  earliest  grown 
branches  are  quite  dead  or  drooping;  that 
Christianity  has  passed  from  the  peoples  among 
whom  it  first  found  root,  and  that  satyrs  dance 
where  the  praises  of  Christ  were  once  sung.  It 
would  almost  seem  as  if  there  were  a  melan- 
choly accuracy  in  the  figure  used  in  the  parable, 
and  that  the  tree,  having  once  attained  its  full 
dimensions,  grows  no  more.  After  some  years 
the  rapid  growth  which  was  so  striking  in  the 
young  tree  is  no  longer  discernible.  It  main- 
tains equal  or  perhaps  stronger  life,  but  spring 
after  spring  you  look  in  vain  for  any  discernible 
increase  in  size.  But  certain  it  is  that  this 
plant  which  Christ  planted  has  shown  vitality, 


THE  MUSTARD  SEED.  6  I 

drawing  nutriment  from  every  soil  in  which  it 
has  been  tried,  and  assimilating  to  its  own  life 
and  substance  all  that  is  good  in  the  soil,  using 
the  faculties  and  accomplishments,  the  literary 
or  artistic  or  commercial  leanings  and  gifts  of 
the  various  races  so  as  to  further  the  true  wel- 
fare of  men  ;  gathering  strength  from  sunshine 
and  storm  alike,  cherishing  a  hidden  life  through 
the  long  winters  when  every  branch  seemed 
hopelessly  dead,  and  drawing  supplies  of  vital- 
izing moisture  from  sources  beyond  the  ken  of 
man  when  the  scorching  heats  threatened  to 
wither  up  every  living  leaf.  The  tree  is  grow- 
ing now,  gradually  absorbing  into  itself  all  the 
widening  thoughts  of  men,  and  by  the  chemistry 
of  its  own  life  extracting  nutriment  from  criti- 
cism, from  philosophy,  from  research,  from  social 
and  political  movements,  from  everything  that 
forms  the  great  stirring  human  world  in  which 
it  is  rooted  ;  not  afraid  to  stand  out  in  the  open 
and  face  the  day,  but  gaining  vigour  from 
every  brisker  air  that  tosses  its  branches. 

This  parable  was  spoken  for  the  encourage- 
ment of  the  disciples :  it  is  needed  still  for  the 
encouragement  of  all  who  are  interested  in  the 
extension  of  Christ's  kingdom.  In  many  re- 
spects our  outlook  is  even  more  hopeless  than 
that  of  the  first  disciples.  The  novelty,  the 
first  enthusiasm,  the  external  signs,  are  all  gone  ; 
the  solidarity  of  the  Church  is  also  gone,  and 


62  THE  MUSTARD  SEED. 

in  its  place  we  have  to  overcome  the  discredit- 
ing exhibitions  of  discord  and  internal  conflict, 
as  well  as  the  weakening  influence  of  scepticism, 
and  the  slowly  corroding  materialism  that  is 
destroying   the   very   foundations    of    religion. 
The  missionary  enterprise  of  the  first  disciples 
seems   never  to  have  extended  very  far  from 
the  Mediterranean  coasts.     They  were  unaware 
of  the  vast  multitudes  beyond,  and  of  the  solid- 
ity and  attractiveness  of  some  of  the  religions 
already  in  occupation  ;   whereas  to  the  eye  of 
the  modern  Church  populations  are  disclosed, 
numbered  by  hundreds  of  millions,  and  adher- 
ing to  religions  more  ancient  and   more   out- 
wardly impressive   than    our   own.     Our   zeal, 
too,  is  slackened  by  the  very  fact  that  all  this 
yet  remains  to  be  done ;  that  Christianity  should 
have   been   growing    for   nearly  two  thousand 
years,   and   that   it  has  not  yet  convinced  all 
men  of  its  superiority,  and  that  in  places  where 
it  has  been  most  ardently  received  it  has  borne 
fruit  of  which  every  man  must  feel  ashamed. 

To  all  persons  who  are  disheartened,  whether 
by  the  apparent  fruitlessness  of  their  own  efforts 

._Qr  by  the  slow  growth  of  the  Church  at  large, 
this  parable  says,  You  must  measure  things  not 

(  by  their  size,  but  by  their  vitality.  What  you 
can  do  may  be  very  little,  and  once  it  is  done 
there  may  be  no  sign  of  results  ;  but  if  you  put 
yourself  into  it,  if  it  come  from  the  heart — a 


THE  MUSTARD  SEED.  63 

heart  whose  earnestness  and  hope  are  the  re- 
sult of  contact  with  Christ — then  fruit  will  one 
day  be  borne.  You  must  have  some  imagina- 
tion. You  must  have  some  faith  that  will 
enable  you  to  wait  patiently  for  fruit.  Make 
sure  that  what  you  sow  is  good  seed  ;  that  what 
you  teach  your  children  is  true ;  that  what  you 
strive  to  introduce  into  society  is  sound  and 
helpful ;  that  the  ideas  you  propagate,  the 
charity  you  support,  the  industry  you  seek  to 
advance,  are  all  such  as  belong  to  the  kingdom 
of  Christ,  and  you  may  be  sure  your  labour  is 
not  lost.  You  may  not  see  the  results  of  your 
actions.  You  may  not  see  full  grown  the  trees 
of  your  planting,  but  your  children  will  lie 
under  their  shade,  and  dream  of  your  sheltering 
forethought,  and  strive  to  fulfil  your  best  pur- 
poses. Do  not  be  discouraged  because  all  is 
not  yet  done  on  earth,  and  much  remains  for 
you  to  do;  do  not  be  discouraged  because 
there  is  room  for  sacrifice  and  faith,  devoted- 
ness,  and  wisdom,  and  love,  and  skill.  It  is 
not  hot-house  results  we  seek  to  produce,  nor, 
like  the  Indian  jugglers,  to  make  a  tree  visibly 
shoot  up  by  sleight  of  hand.  What  we  look  for 
is  the  real  growth  of  human  good,  and  this  can 
be  accomplished  by  no  rapid  and  magical  pro- 
cesses, but  only  by  the  patient  nutrition  of  the 
soil  by  all  that'is  truest  and  deepest  in  human 
nature,  and  by  all  that  is  most  real  and  most 


64  THE  MUSTARD  SEED. 

testing  in  human  effort.  Honestly  seek  the 
growth  of  this  tree,  and  be  not  too  greatly  dis- 
I  mayed  by  the  portentous  difficulties  of  the  task. 
"He  that  observeth  the  wind  shall  not  sow,  and 
he  that  regardeth  the  clouds  shall  not  reap.  As 
thou  knowest  not  what  is  the  way  of  the  spirit, 
even  so  thou  knowest  not  the  works  of  God 
who  maketh  all.  In  the  morning  sow  thy  seed, 
and  in  the  evening  withhold  not  thy  hand,  for 
thou  knowest  not  whether  shall  prosper,  either 
this  or  that,  or  whether  they  both  shall  be  alike 
good." 

In  conclusion,  is  it  not  relevant  to  ask  whether 
we  have  joined  the  Christian  Church,  because  it 
is  large,  or  because  it  is  living }     Simon  in  the 
temple  held  all  Christendom  in  his  arms,  and 
yet  felt  sure  the  redemption  of  the  world  was 
nigh.     Is  your  faith  like  his  .■'     Is  it  the  Person 
of  Christ  and  not  what  has  grown  round  His 
person  that  you  cleave  to  .-'     Do  you  find  t/iat 
1^  in  Christ  which  compels  you  to  say  that,  though 
you  were  the  only  Christian,  yourself  the  Church 
visible,  you  must  abide  by  Him  .-•    Is  there  some 
independence  in  your  choice,  some  individuality 
in  your  experience .-'    Can  you  say,  with  some 
•  significance,  "  I  know  Him  in  whom  I  have  be- 
lieved "  .''  or  do  you  but  adopt  the  fashion  that 
prevails,  and   feel  the  propriety  and  safety  of 
going  with  the  majority  ?    In  any  case  it  is  well 
that  you  recognise  that  there  is  this  tree  planted 


THE  MUSTARD  SEED,  65 

by  the  Lord  Himself,  and  still  growing  upon 
earth.  There  is  upon  earth  a  society  of  men 
not  always  easy  to  find,  but  in  true  sympathy 
with  Him  ;  a  progress  of  human  affairs  to  which 
He  gave  the  initial  impulse.  There  is  on  earth 
a  tree,  the  seed  of  which  is  His  own  life, 
whose  growing  bulk  embodies,  from  generation 
to  generation,  all  that  exists  in  the  world  of 
His  purpose  and  work.  The  good  He  intended 
for  men  He  deposited  in  that  seed.  He  came 
to  impart  to  men  permanent  blessings.  He 
saw  our  condition,  recognised  what  we  needed, 
and  introduced  into  the  world  what  He  knew 
would  achieve  the  happiness  of  every  one  of  us. 


IV. 
THE    LEAVEN. 


*^  Anolher  parable  spake  he  unto  theiii :  The  kingdom  of  heaven 
is  like  unto  leaven,  ivhich  a  ivojuan  took,  and  hid  in  three 
incasnres  of  meal,  till  the  whole  was  leavened." — Matt.  xiii.  33. 


THE  LEAVEN. 

Ma'it.  xiii.  33. 

This  parable  directs  attention  to  two  points 
connected  with  the  spread  of  Christianity.  It 
illustrates — 

1.  First,  the  kindoi  change  which  Christianity 
works  in  the  world  ;  and 

2.  Second,  the  method  by  which  this  change 
is  wrought. 

I.  First,  our  Lord  here  teaches  that  the  change 
which  He  meant  to  effect  in  the  world  was  a 
change,  not  so  much  of  the  outward  form,  as  of 
the  spirit  and  character  of  all  things.  The  pro- 
pagation of  His  influence  is  illustrated  not  by 
the  figure  of  a  woman  taking  a  mass  of  dough 
and  baking  it  up  into  new  loaves  of  a  shape 
hitherto  unseen  ;  but  by  the  figure  of  a  woman 
putting  that  into  the  dough  which  alters  the 
character  of  the  whole  mass.  She  may  set 
on  the  table  loaves  that  are  to  all  appear- 
ance the  same  as  the  old,  but  no  one  will 
taste  them  without  perceiving  the  difference. 
The  old  shapes  are  retained,  the  familiar 
marks  appear  still  on   the  loaves,   but  it  is  a 


70  THE  LEAVEN. 

different  bread.  The  appearance  remains  the 
same,  the  reality  is  altered.  The  form  is  re- 
tained, but  the  character  is  changed. 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  you  may  re- 
volutionize any  country  or  society.  You  may 
either  pull  down  all  the  old  forms  of  government, 
or  you  may  fill  them  with  men  of  a  different 
spirit.  If  an  empire  is  going  to  ruin,  you  may 
either  change  the  empire  into  a  republic,  or  you 
may  put  the  right  man  in  the  office  of  emperor. 
If  any  society  or  club  or  association  has  become 
effete  and  a  nuisance,  doing  harm  instead  of 
good,  you  may  reform  it  either  by  revising  its 
constitution,  making  new  laws  and  regulations, 
and  so  making  it  a  new  society,  or  you  may  fill 
its  official  positions  with  men  of  a  right  spirit, 
leaving  its  form  of  constitution  untouched.  A 
watch  stops,  and  somebody  tells  you  it  needs 
new  works,  but  the  watchmaker  tells  you  it  only 
needs  cleaning.  A  machine  refuses  to  work, 
and  people  think  the  construction  is  wrong,  but 
the  skilled  mechanic  pushes  aside  the  ignorant 
crowd  and  puts  all  to  rights  with  a  few  drops 
of  oil.  "  Your  bread  is  unwholesome,"  says  the 
public  to  the  baker,  and  he  says,  "Well,  I'll 
send  you  loaves  of  a  new  shape;"  but  the 
woman  of  the  parable  follows  the  wiser  course 
of  altering  the  quality  of  the  bread. 

Few  distinctions  are  of  wider  application, 
few  need  more  careful  pondering  by  all  of  us 


THE  LEAVEN.  71 

whether   in   our   social,   political,   or    religious 
capacity.     Many  of  us  take  a  huge  interest  in 
the  institutions  of  our  country,  and  are  ready  to 
lay  our  finger  on   this   and    that   as   needing 
reform.     This  parable   should   therefore  haunt 
the  ear,  and  always  suggest  the  question  :   Is 
this  or  that  institution  radically  bad  ?  or,  sup- 
posing good   and  wise  men  were  working   it, 
would  it  not  serve  a  good  purpose  ?     What  is 
wanted  in  the  world  is  not  new  forms,  but  a 
new  spirit  in  the  present  forms.     New  forms, 
new  institutions,  new  regulations,  new  occupa- 
tions, new  trades,  new  ways  of  occupying  our 
time,  new  customs   are  really  as  little  to  the 
purpose  as  putting  the  old  make  of  bread  into 
new  shapes.     What  our  Lord  by  this  parable 
warns  us  to  aim  at  and  to  look  for  is  rather  the 
possession   which  Christian  feeling   and  views 
take  of  previously  existing  customs,  institutions, 
relationships,  occupations,  than  the  new  facts 
and   habits   to    which   Christian   feeling   gives 
birth.     It  is  the  regenerating  rather  than  the 
creative  power  of  Christ's  Spirit  that  He  dwells 
upon.     His  Spirit,  He  says,  does  not  require  a 
new  channel  to  be  dug  for  it ;  its  fuller  stream 
may  flood  the  old  banks,  may  wear  out  corners 
here  and  there,  may  break  out  in  new  directions, 
but  in  the  main,  the  channel  remains  the  same. 
The  man  has  the  same  arteries,  but  now  they 
are  filled  with  health-giving  blood.     The  lump 


72  THE  LEAVEN. 

is  the  same  lump,  and  done  up  into  the  same 
old  shapes,  but  it  is  all  leavened  now. 

The  coming  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  does 
not  then  consist  in  an  entire  alteration  of  human 
life,  as   we   now   know   it.      The   kingdom   of 
heaven  comes  not  with  observation,  but  is  within 
you.    It  does  not  alter  empires  into  republics,  it 
does  not  abolish  work  and  give  us  all  ease,  it 
does  not  find  fault  with  the  universal  frame  of 
things,  or  refuse  to  fit  itself  in  with  the  world  as 
it  is ;  but  it  accepts  things  as  it  finds  them,  and 
leavens  all  it  touches.     As  the  outward  forms 
of  the  world's  business,  its  offices  and  dignities, 
its  need  of  work  and  ways  of  working,  would  be 
little  altered  if  all  men  were  suddenly  to  become 
absolutely  truthful  or  absolutely  sober,  so  the 
change  which  Christ  proposed  to  effect  was  of 
an  inward,  not  of  an  outward  kind.     It  was  to 
X'  be  first  in  the  individual,  and  only  through  the 
individual  on  society  at  large.      Our  Lord  in 
establishing  a  kingdom  on  earth,  did  not  intend 
to   erect  a  vast  organization   over-against  the 
world,  but  He  meant  to  introduce  into  the  world 
itself  a  leaven  which  should  rule  and  subdue 
all  to  His  own  Spirit.     The  Church  itself  there- 
fore may  become  too  visible,  has   become   in 
many  respects  too  visible,  and  has  thus  unfor- 
tunately succeeded  in  at  once  separating  itself 
from  the  world  as  a  distinct  and  alien  institu- 
tion, and  becoming  entirely  "  of  the  world,"  by 


THE  LEAVEN.  ^ ^i 

imitating  the  institutions,  the  ambitions,  the 
power,  the  show  of  the  world.  It  has  learned 
to  measure  its  success  very  largely  by  the  bulk 
it  occupies  in  the  eyes  of  men,  by  its  well- 
ordered  services,  its  creeds  and  laws  and  courts; 
and  it  has  too  much  forgotten  that  its  function 
is  of  quite  another  kind,  namely,  to  be  Iiidden 
among  the  flour. 

2.  Secondly,  this  parable  pointedly  directs 
attention  to  the  precise  method  by  which  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  to  grow  ;  or,  as  we  should 
more  naturally  say,  by  which  the  whole  world 
is  to  be  Christianized.  To  one  who  considers 
the  probable  future  of  any  new  or  young  force 
in  the  world,  to  one  who  stands  beside  the 
cradle  of  a  new  power  and  speculates  on  its 
future,  there  will  occur  several  ways  in  which  it 
may  possibly  prevail  and  attain  universality.  It 
may  so  commend  itself  to  the  common  sense  of 
men,  or  it  may  so  appeal  to  their  regard 
to  their  own  interests,  as  to  win  universal  ac- 
ceptance. Railways,  banks,  insurance  com- 
panies, do  not  need  statutes  compelling  men  to 
use  them ;  they  win  their  way  by  their  own 
intrinsic  advantages.  There  have  been  govern- 
ments so  wisely  administered,  that  men  not 
naturally  subject  to  them  have  sought  to  be 
taken  under  their  protection  for  the  sake  of  ad- 
vantages accruing.  Some  kingdoms  have  thus 
been  largely  extended ;    but    more   commonly 


74  THE   LEAVEN. 

they  have  been  extended  by  the  sword,  by  the 
strong  hand.  Not  by  this  latter  method  would 
Christ  have  His  religion  propagated.  Yet  the 
idea  that  men  can  somehow  be  compelled  to 
accept  the  truth,  seems  never  to  be  quite  eradi- 
cated from  the  human  mind.  Very  slowly  is  it 
recognized  that  to  support  a  religion  by  any 
kind  of  force  instead  of  by  reason  alone,  is  to 
admit  that  reason  condemns  it.  The  methods  of 
compulsion  change ;  the  coarser  forms  of  com- 
pulsion, the  sword  and  the  stake,  give  place ; 
but  more  disguised  and  less  startling  forms  of 
compulsion  remain,  equally  opposed  to  the 
spirit  of  Christ. 

The  spread  of  Christianity,  then,  is  illustrated 
in  this  parable,  not  by  the  propagation  of  fruit 
trees,  nor  even  by  the  sowing  of  seed,  but  by 
the  leavening  of  a  mass  of  dough.  Religion, 
that  is  to  say,  spreads  not  by  a  fresh  sowing  in 
each  case,  but  by  contagion.  No  doubt  there 
is  a  direct  agency  of  God  in  each  case,  but  God 
works  through  natural  means ;  and  the  natural 
means  here  pointed  at  is  personal  influence. 
And  it  is  not  the  agency  of  God  in  the  matter 
which  our  Lord  wishes  here  to  illustrate,  and 
therefore  He  says  nothing  about  it.  He  is 
not  careful  to  guard  Himself  against  misrepre- 
sentation by  completing  in  every  utterance  a 
full  statement  of  the  whole  truth,  but  presses 
one  point  at  a  time ;    and  the  point  ^He  here 


THE  LEAVEN.  75 

presses  is,  that  He  depends  upon  personal  in- 
fluence for  the  spread  of  His  Spirit.  The  Church 
often  trusts  to  massive  and  wealthy  organizations, 
to  methods  which  are  calculated  to  strike  every 
eye ;  but  according  to  the  Head  of  the  Church 
His  religion  and  spirit  are  to  be  propagated  by 
an  influence  which  operates  like  an  infectious 
disease,  invisible,  without  apparatus  and  pomp- 
ous equipment,  succeeding  all  the  better  where 
it  is  least  observed.  Our  Lord  bases  His  ex- 
pectation of  the  extension  of  His  Spirit  through- 
out the  world  not  upon  any  grand  and  power- 
ful institutions,  not  on  national  establishments 
of  religion  or  any  such  means,  but  on  the 
secret,  unnoticed  influence  of  man  upon  man. 

And  indeed  there  exists  no  mightier  power 
for  good  or  evil  than  personal  influence.  Take 
even  those  who  least  intend  to  influence  you  and 
seem  least  capable  of  it.  The  little  child  that 
cannot  stand  alone  will  work  that  tenderness 
in  the  heart  of  a  ruffian  which  no  acts  of  parlia- 
ment or  prison  discipline  have  availed  to  work. 
The  wail  of  the  suffering  infant  will  bring  a 
new  spirit  into  the  man  whom  the  strongest 
police  regulations  have  tended  only  to  harden 
and  make  more  defiant  and  embittered.  By 
his  confidence  in  your  word,  the  child  is  a  more 
effectual  monitor  of  truthfulness  than  the  keen 
or  suspicious  eye  of  the  grown  man  who  dis- 
trusts you  :  the  child's  recklessness  of  to-morrow, 


76  THE  LEAVEN. 

his  short  sadnesses  and  soon  recovered  smiles, 
his  ignorance  of  the  world  and  the  world's 
misery,  are  the  proper  balance  of  your  anxiety, 
and  insinuate  into  your  heart  some  measure  of 
his  own  freshness  and  hope.  Or  what  can  re- 
flect more  light  upon  God's  patience  with  our- 
selves than  the  unwearying  love  and  repeated 
forgiveness  that  a  child  demands,  and  the 
long  doubting  with  which  we  wait  for  the  fruit 
of  years  of  training  .-*  So  that  it  is  hard  to  say 
whether  the  parent  has  more  influence  on  the 
child,  or  the  child  on  the  parent .''  Or  take 
those  who  have  been  pushed  aside  from  the 
busy  world  by  ill-health  or  misfortune — have 
not  their  unmurmuring  patience,  their  Christian 
hope,  their  need  of  our  compassion,  done  much 
to  mould  our  spirits  to  a  sober  and  chastened 
habit  ?  have  they  not  imparted  to  us  the  spirit 
of  Christ,  and  cherished  within  us  a  true  re- 
cognition of  what  is  essential  and  what  acci- 
dental, what  good  and  what  evil  in  this  world  ? 
What,  then,  does  the  parable  teach  us  regard- 
ing the  operation  of  this  influence  }  It  teaches 
us,  first,  that  there  must  be  a  mixing ;  that  is 
to  say,  there  must  be  contact  of  the  closest 
kind  between  those  who  are  and  those  who  are 
not  the  subjects  of  Christ.  Manifestly,  no  good 
is  done  by  the  leaven  while  it  lies  by  itself;  it 
might  as  well  be  chalk  or  anything  else.  It 
must  be  mixed  with  the  flour.     So  must  Chris- 


THE  LEAVEN.  77 

tians  be  kneaded  up  together  with  all  kinds 
of  annoying  and  provoking  and  uncongenial 
people,  that  the  spirit  of  Christ  which  they  bear 
may  become  universal.  Had  our  Lord  not 
eaten  with  publicans  and  sinners ;  had  He 
sensitively  shrunk  from  the  rough  and  irreve- 
rent handling  He  received  among  coarse  men 
who  called  Him  "Samaritan,"  "devil,"  and 
"  sot ;  "  had  He  secluded  Himself  in  the  ap- 
preciative household  of  Bethany ;  had  He  not 
made  Himself  the  most  accessible  Person,  little 
of  His  Spirit  would  have  passed  into  other  men. 
Other  things  being  equal,  the  effect  of  Christian 
character  varies  with  the  thoroughness  of  the 
mixing.  It  is  so  with  all  personal  influence. 
The  depth  of  the  love,  the  closeness  of  the  in- 
timacy, the  frequency  and  thoroughness  of  the 
intercourse,  is  the  measure  of  the  effect  pro- 
duced. In  a  country  such  as  our  own,  in  which 
the  population  is  dense,  and  in  which  an  un- 
obstructed communication  subsists  between  man 
and  man,  things  constantly  tend  to  equalize  ; 
and  what  yesterday  was  the  property  of  one 
person  is  to-day  enjoyed  by  thousands.  And 
precisely  as  a  fashion  or  a  contagious  disease 
passes  from  man  to  man,  with  inconceivable 
and  sometimes  appalling  rapidity,  so  does  evil 
or  good  example  propagate  itself  with  as  cer- 
tain and  speedy  an  increase.  And  this  it  does 
all  the  more  effectually  because  insensibly  ;  be- 


78  THE  LEAVEN. 

cause  we  do  not  brace  ourselves  to  resist  this 
subtle  atmospheric  influence,  nor  wash  our  hands 
with  any  disinfectant  provided  against  these 
imperceptible  stains.  There  is  no  quarantine 
for  the  moral  leper,  nor  any  desert  in  the  moral 
world  where  a  man  can  be  evil  for  himself  alone. 
For  this  mixing  is  provided  for  in  various 
ways.  It  is  provided  for  by  nature,  which  sets 
us  in  families  and  mixes  us  up  in  all  the  famili- 
arities and  intimacies  of  domestic  life ;  and  by 
society,  which  compels  us,  in  the  prosecution  of 
our  ordinary  callings,  to  come  into  contact  with 
one  another  of  a  close  and  influential  kind. 
One  part  of  the  world  is  "  mixed  "  with  other 
parts  by  commerce,  by  colonization,  by  con- 
quest, so  that  there  exists  a  ceaseless  giving 
and  taking  of  good  and  evil.  One  generation 
is  mixed  with  others  by  reading  their  history 
and  their  literary  remains,  and  by  inheriting 
their  traditions  and  their  long  established  usages. 
So  that  whether  we  will  or  no  this  mixing  goes 
on,  and  we  can  as  little  prevent  certain  results 
arising  from  this  intercourse  as  we  can  prevent 
our  persons  from  giving  ofl*  heat  when  we  enter 
an  atmosphere  colder  than  ourselves.  We  find 
it  to  be  true  that 

"  The  world's  infectious  :  few  bring  back  at  eve 
Immaculate  the  manners  of  the  morn. 
Something  we  thought  is  blotted  ;  we  resolv'd 
Is  shaken  ;  we  renounced,  returns  again. 
Each  salutation  may  slide  in  a  sin 
Unthought  before,  or  fix  a  former  flaw." 


THE  LEAVEN.  79 

But  beyond  nature's  provision,  beyond  the  2in- 
avoidablc  contact  with  our  fellow-men  to  which 
we  are  all  compelled,  there  are  voluntary 
friendships  and  associations  into  which  we 
enter,  and  casual  meetings  which  we  unawares 
are  thrown  into.  Such  casual  and  passing 
acquaintanceships  have  very  frequently  illus- 
trated the  truth  of  this  parable,  and  have  been 
the  means  of  imparting  the  Spirit  of  Christ  in 
very  unlikely  quarters.  And  it  would  help  us 
to  use  wisely  such  accidental  opportunities  if 
we  bore  in  mind  that  if  there  are  to  be  any 
additions  made  to  the  kingdom  of  Christ,  these 
additions  are  chiefly  to  be  made  from  among 
those  careless,  worldly,  antagonistic  persons  who 
do  not  at  present  respond  to  any  Christian 
sentiments.  But  besides  the  mingling  which 
nature,  and  what  may  be  called  accident,  afford, 
there  are  connections  we  form  of  our  own  choice, 
and  companies  we  enter  which  we  might,  if  we 
chose,  avoid.  There  is  a  border-land  of  amuse- 
ments, occupations,  duties,  common  to  the  godly 
and  the  ungodly,  and  for  the  regulation  of  our 
conduct,  in  respect  to  such  intercourse,  this  par- 
able suffices.  Can  the  occupation  be  leavened, 
and  can  it  be  leavened  by  us  ?  Can  it  be  engaged 
in  in  a  right  spirit,  and  are  we  sure  enough  of 
our  own  stability  to  engage  in  it  with  benefit .-' 
A  man  of  strong  physique  may  scathelessly  enter 
a   room   out   of  which   a  weaker  constitution 


8o 


THE  LEAVEN. 


would  inevitably  carry  infection.  And  it  is 
ioolish  to  argue  that  because  some  other  per- 
son is  none  the  worse  of  going  to  this  or  that 
company,  or  engaging  in  this  or  that  pursuit, 
therefore  you  would  not  be  the  worse  of  it. 
You  would  not  so  argue  if  your  entrance  into 
an  infected^house  was  in  question. 

But  there  is  also  a  culpable  refusal  to  mix, 
as  well  as  an  inconsiderate  eagerness  to  do  so. 
Most  of  us  shrink  from  the  responsibility  of 
materially  influencing  the  life  of  another  person. 
Ask  a  man  for  advice  about  any  important 
matter,  and  you  know  what  devices  he  will  fall 
upon  to  avoid  advising  you.  Many  of  us  are 
really  afraid  of  incurring  the  hazardous  respon- 
sibility of  making  a  man  a  Christian.  Two 
opposite  feelings  dispose  us  to  shrink  from 
mingling  with  all  kinds  of  people.  One  is  a 
feeling  of  hopelessness  about  others.  They 
seem  so  remote  from  the  acknowledgment  of 
Christ's  rule,  that  we  feel  as  if  they  could  never 
be  leavened.  The  parable  reminds  us,  that 
while  no  doubt  it  is  impossible  to  leaven  sand, 
so  long  as  the  meal  remains  meal  it  may  be 
leavened.  The  other  feeling  is  one  rather  of 
despair  about  ourselves  than  about  others. 
We  feel  as  if  our  influence  could  only  do  harm. 
We  are  afraid  to  live  out  our  inward  life  freely 
and  strongly  lest  it  injure  others.  This  feeling, 
however,  should  prompt  us  neither  to  seclude 


THE  LEAVEN.  8  I 

ourselves  from  society,  nor  to  behave  in  a 
constrained  and  artificial  manner  in  society, 
but  to  renew  our  own  connection  with  the  leaven 
till  we  feel  sure  our  whole  nature  is  throughout 
renewed.  If  any  one  is  exercising  a  healthy 
influence  while  we  are  languid  and  incapable, 
it  is  simply  because  that  other  person  is  in 
connection  with  Christ.  That  connection  is 
open  to  us  as  well. 

The  mixing  being  thus  accomplished,  how  is 
the  process  continued  }  Besides  mingling  with 
society  and  joining  freely  in  all  the  innocent 
ways  of  the  world,  what  is  a  Christian  to  do  in 
order  that  his  Christian  feeling  may  be  com- 
municated to  others  }  The  answer  is,  He  is  to  be 
a  Christian  ;  not  to  be  anxious  to  show  himself 
a  Christian,  but  to  be  careful  to  be  one.  It  has 
been  wisely  said  that  "  the  true  philosophy  or 
method  of  doing  good  is,  first  of  all  and  prin- 
cipally, to  be  good— to  have  a  character  that 
will  of  itself  communicate  good."  This  is  the 
very  teaching  of  the  parable,  which  says,  "  Be 
a  Christian,  and  you  must  make  Christians,  or 
help  to  make  them.  Be  leaven,  and  you  will 
leaven."  The  leaven  does  not  need  to  say,  I 
am  leaven  ;  nor  to  say  that  which  lies  next  it,  Be 
thou  leavened.  By  the  inevitable  communica- 
tion of  the  properties  of  the  leaven  to  that  which 
lies  beside  it,  and  by  this  again  infecting  what 
F 


82  THE  LEAVEN. 

is  beyond,  the  whole,  gradually  and  unseen,  but 
naturally  and  certainly,  is  leavened. 

This  illustration  of  the  leaven  must,  of  course, 
not  be  too  hard  pressed,  as  if  the  parable  meant 
that  only  by  the  unconscious  influence  of  char- 
acter and  not  at  all  by  the  conscious  and  vol- 
untary influence  of  speech  and  action,  the 
kingdom  of  Christ  is  to  be  extended.  Yet  no 
one  can  fail  to  observe  that  the  illustration  of 
the  parable  is  more  appropriate  to  the  uncon- 
scious than  to  the  intended  influence  which 
Christians  exercise  on  those  around  them.  It 
is  rather  the  all-pervading  and  subtle  extension 
of  Christian  principles  than  their  declared  and 
aggressive  advocacy  that  is  brought  before  the 
mind  by  the  figure  of  leaven.  It  reminds  us 
that  men  are  most  susceptible  to  the  influence 
that  flows  from  character.  This  influence  sheds 
itself  off"  in  a  thousand  ways  too  subtle  to  be 
resisted,  and  in  forms  so  fine  as  to  insinuate 
themselves  where  words  would  find  no  en- 
trance. A  man  is  in  many  circumstances  more 
likely  to  do  good  by  acting  in  a  Christian 
manner,  than  by  drawing  attention  to  the  faults 
(of  others  and  exposing  their  iniquity.  The  less 
ostentatious,  the  less  conscious  the  influence 
exercised  upon  us  is,  the  more  likely  are  we  to 
admit  it.  And  when  we  are  compelled  to  re- 
prove, or  to  advise,  or  to  entreat,  this  also  must 
be  in  simplicity  and  as  the  natural  expression, 


THE  LEAVEN.  83 

not  the  formal  and  forced  exhibition  of  Christian 
feeling-.  The  words  uttered  by  a  shallow- 
hearted  and  self-righteous  Pharisee  may  by 
God's  grace  turn  a  sinner  from  the  error  of  his 
ways  ;  the  lump  of  ice,  itself  chill  and  hard, 
may  be  used  as  a  lens  to  kindle  and  thaw  other 
objects  ;  but  notwithstanding  this,  he  who  does 
not  speak  with  his  whole  character  backing 
what  he  says,  may  expect  to  fail.  It  is  man/ 
that  influences  man  ;  not  the  words  or  individual 
actions  of  a  man,  but  the  complete  character 
which  his  whole  life  silently  reveals. 

If  then  you  sometimes  reproach  yourself  for 
not  exercising  any  perceptible  influence  for 
good  over  some  friend  or  child,  if  it  disturbs 
you  that  you  have  done  less  than  you  might 
have  done  by  conversation  or  direct  appeal,  it 
may  indeed  be  quite  true  that  you  have  thus 
fallen  short  of  your  duty ;  yet  remember  that 
conduct  often  tells  far  more  than  talk,  and  that 
your  conduct  has  certainly  told  upon  the  secret 
thoughts  of  your  friend,  whereas  were  you  to 
speak  merely  for  the  sake  of  exonerating  your 
conscience,  the  chances  are,  you  would  speak  in 
an  awkward,  artificial,  and  ineffective  manner. 
That  conversation  is  often  the  most  religious] 
which  in  appearance  is  most  secular ;  which 
concerns  bills,  and  cargoes,  and  investments,  and 
contracts,  and  family  arrangements,  and  litera- 
ture ;  and  which,  without  any  allusion  to  God, 


84  THE  LEAVEN. 

the  soul,  and  eternity,  secretly  impregnates  the 
whole  of  human  life  with  the  Spirit  of  Christ. 
If  that  only  is  to  be  reckoned  religious  con- 
versation in  which  the  topics  of  religion  are 
discussed,  then  religious  conversation  has 
commonly  produced  more  heat  and  bitterness 
and  antagonism  to  Christ's  Spirit  than  any 
other. 

While,  then,  direct  address  forms  one  great 
part  of  the  means  of  leavening  those  around 
you,  it  is  to  be  borne  in  mind,  that  in  the  first 
place  you  must  be  what  you  wish  others  to  be- 
come.    If  not,  then  certainly  nothing  that  you 
can  say  is  at  all  likely  to  compensate  for  the 
evil  you  may  do  by  your  character.     It  does 
not  need  that  you  intend  evil  to  any ;  it  will  be 
otit   whether   you    mean  it  or  no.     If  you  are 
yourself    evil,   then    most    certainly    you    are 
making  others  evil.     Can  you  number  the  times 
that  you  have  checked  the  utterance  of  Christian 
feeling  in  those  who  knew  they  would  find  no 
response  in  you  ?     Can  you  tell  how  many  have 
been   confirmed    in   a    sinful   course   by  your 
winking  at  their  faults,  and  have  none  been  led 
into  sin  by  your  removing  the  scruples  of  their 
innocence  .-*     Are  you  sure  that  your  example 
has  never  turned  the  balance  the  wrong  way 
at  some  critical  hour  of  your  neighbour's  life  } 
Is  there  no  one  who  can   stand   forward  and 
charge  you  with  having  left  him  in  darkness 


THE  LEAVEN.  85 

about  his  duty,  when  you  might  have  enlightened 
him  ?  with  having  made  him  easy  in  sin  by 
your  pleasant,  affable,  unreproving  demeanour 
towards  him  ?  Are  there  none  who  to  all 
eternity  will  bear  the  punishment  of  sins  in 
which  you  were  aiding  and  abetting;  none  whom 
you  have  directly  encouraged  to  evil,  who  would, 
but  for  you,  have  been  clear  of  evil  thoughts, 
desires,  and  deeds  of  which  they  now  are  guilty; 
none  in  whose  punishment  you  might  see  the 
punishment  of  sins  which  were  as  much  yours 
as  theirs,  and  the  memory  of  which  might  seem 
sufficient,  if  that  were  possible,  to  poison  the 
very  joys  of  heaven  ? 

Do  not  turn  the  warning  of  this  parable  aside 
by  the  thought,  ';Am  I  my  brother's  keeper  ? 
Most  assuredly  you  are  responsible  for  your 
own  character,  and  for  all  its  effects.  If  you 
are  not  doing  good  to  others,  it  is  because  there 
is  something  wrong  in  yourself.  If  you  are  not 
leavening  others,  it  is  because  you  are  yourself 
unleavened :  for  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
leaven  that  does  not  impart  its  qualities  to 
that  which  is  about  it.  Can  you  confine  the  per- 
fume to  the  flower,  or  restrict  the  light  of  the 
sun  to  its  own  globe  .''  Just  as  little  can  you 
restrain  all  Christian  qualities  within  your  own 
person :  something  material,  something  essential 
to  Christian  character  is  lacking  if  it  be  not 
influencing  those  about  it 


86  THE  LEAVEN. 

It  is  a  glorious  consummation  that  this 
parable  speaks  of.  It  tells  of  a  mixing  that  is 
to  go  on  till  ^^ the  whole"  is  leavened.  The 
Spirit  of  Christ  is  to  pervade  all  things. 
That  Spirit  is  to  take  possession  of  all  na- 
tional characteristics  and  all  individual  gifts. 
Every  variety  of  quality,  of  human  faculty, 
temperament,  and  endowment,  is  to  be  Chris- 
tianized, that  all  may  serve  Christ.  In  His 
kingdom  is  to  be  gathered  all  that  has  ever 
served  or  gladdened  humanity  :  the  freshness 
of  childhood  and  its  simplicity,  the  sagacity, 
gravity,  and  self-command  of  age,  the  enter- 
prise and  capacity  of  manhood,  the  qualities 
that  suffering  matures,  and  those  that  arc 
nurtured  by  prosperity ;  all  occupations  that 
have  invited  and  stimulated  and  rewarded 
the  energies  of  men,  all  modes  of  human  life, 
and  all  affections  that  conscience  approves,  all 
that  is  the  true  work,  joy,  and  glory,  of  our 
nature  is  to  be  pervaded  with  the  sanctifying, 
purifying,  elevating  leaven  of  Christ's  Spirit. 
And  this  is  to  be  achieved  not  otherwise  than 
by  personal  influence.  Is  it  possible  that  you 
should  have  no  desire  to  help  in  this  .''  that  you 
should  be  in  the  world  of  men  and  not  care  to  see 
it  accomplishing  this  destiny  "^  that  you  should 
know  the  earnestness  of  Christ  in  this  behalf, 
and  never  lift  a  finger  or  open  your  lips  to  aid 
Him .''     Surely  it  will  pain  you  to  come  to  the 


THE  LEAVEN.  87 

end  of  life  and  have  it  to  reflect  that  not  one 
soul  has  been  effectually  helped  by  you.  Would 
you  not  save  many  if  by  a  wish  you  could  lift 
them  to  the  gate  of  heaven  ?  Is  it,  then,  because 
of  the  little  labour  and  sacrifice  that  are  needed 
for  this  purpose  that  you  hold  back  from  help- 
ing.? Is  there  nothing  you  can  do,  is  there 
nothing  you  ought  to  do  in  the  way  of  leaven- 
ing some  little  bit  of  the  great  mass  .''  Come 
back  yourselves  to  the  leaven,  cultivate  dili- 
gently that  fellowship  with  Christ  Himself, 
which  is  alone  sufficient  to  equip  you  for  this 
great  calling.  Make  sure  of  the  reality  of  your 
own  acceptance  of  His  Spirit,  and  then  what- 
ever you  do,  utter,  touch,  will  all  be  leavened. 


THE  HID  TREASURE   AND  THE 
PEARL  OF  PRICE. 


^'  Again,  the  hingdoni  of  heaven  is  like  itnfo  treasure  hid  in  a 
field;  the  which  ivhen  a  man  hath  found,  he  hideth,  and  for  joy 
thereof  goeth  and  sclleth  all  that  he  hath,  and  buyeth  that  field. 
Again,  the  kingdotn  of  heaven  is  like  nnto  a  merchant  man, 
seeking  goodly  pearls :  who,  when  he  had  found  one  pearl  of  great 
price,  went  and  sold  all  that  he  had,  and  bought  //."—Matt. 
xiii.  44-46. 


THE    HID   TREASURE  AND   THE 
PEARL  OF  PRICE. 

Matt.  xiii.  44-46. 

These  two  parables  have  one  and  the  same 
object.  They  are  meant  to  exhibit  the  incom- 
parable value  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  They 
exhibit  this  value  not  by  attempting  to  describe 
the  kingdom  or  its  various  advantages,  but  by 
depicting  the  eagerness  with  which  he  who  finds 
it  and  recognises  its  value,  parts  with  all  to 
make  it  his  own.  This  eagerness  is  not  depend- 
ent on  the  previous  expectations  or  views  or 
condition  of  the  finder  of  the  kingdom,  but  is 
alike  displayed  whether  the  finder  is  lifted  by 
his  discovery  out  of  acknowledged  poverty,  or 
has  his  hands  already  filled  with  goodly  pearls  ; 
whether  he  has  no  outlook  and  hope  at  all,  or  is 
eagerly  seeking  for  perfect  happiness.  The  one 
parable  illustrates  the  eagerness  of  a  poor  man 
who  lights  upon  the  treasure  apparently  by 
accident ;  the  other  illustrates  the  eagerness  of 
a  rich  man  whose  finding  of  the  pearl  of  price 
is  the  result  of  carefully  studied  and  long  sus- 
tained search. 


92  THE  HID  TREASURE 

This  difference  in  the  two  parables  sets  clearly 
before  the  mind  a  distinction  which  is  frequently- 
apparent  among  those  who  become  Christians, 
Men  naturally  view  life  very  differently,  and 
take  up  from  the  first  very  various  attitudes 
towards  the  world  into  which  we  all  have  come. 
One  person  is  from  the  first  quite  at  home  in  it, 
another  slinks  through  it  as  if  there  were  nothing 
friendly  or  congenial  to  him  here.  One  man 
seems  to  regard  it  as  a  banquetting  house  which 
is  to  be  made  the  most  of  ere  the  sun  rise  and 
dispel  his  illusion,  while  another  uses  it  as  a 
battlefield  where  conquests  are  to  be  made,  and 
where  all  is  to  be  done  in  grim  earnest  and 
strenuously  with  no  thought  of  pleasure.  And, 
as  these  parables  indicate,  there  are  men  born 
with  placid  and  contented  natures,  others  with 
eager,  soaring,  insatiable  spirits ;  some,  in  a 
word,  are  born  merchants,  others  day-labourers. 
Some,  that  is,  are  born  with  a  noble  instinct 
which  never  forsakes  them,  but  prompts  them 
to  believe  that  there  is  infinite  joy  and  satis- 
faction to  be  found,  and  that  it  shall  be  theirs  : 
they  cannot  rest  with  small  things,  but  are 
driven  always  forwards  to  more  and  higher. 
Others,  again,  never  look  beyond  their  pre- 
sent attainment,  cannot  understand  the  restless 
ambition  that  weeps  for  more  worlds,  have  no 
speculation  in  them,  no  broad  plan  of  life,  nor 


AND  THE  PEARL  OF  PRICE.  93 

much  idea  that  any  purpose  is  to  be  served  by 
it.  They  have  the  peaceful,  happy  industry 
which  makes  the  day's  labour  easy,  but  not  the 
enterprize  which  can  plan  a  life's  work  and  make 
every  available  material  on  earth  subserve  its 
plan. 

This  difference,  when  exhibited  in  connec- 
tion with  religion,  becomes  very  marked. 
Looking  upon  some  men,  you  would  say  you 
don't  know  how  ever  they  are  to  be  brought  to 
Christ,  they  are  so  thoroughly  at  home  and  at 
rest  in  their  daily  business,  and  this  seems  to 
afford  them  so  much  interest,  satisfaction,  and 
reward  that  you  cannot  fancy  them  so  much  as 
once  reflecting  whether  something  more  is  not 
needed.  They  seem  so  peculiarly  fitted  for  this 
world,  you  can  fancy  them  going  on  in  the 
same  sphere  for  ever.  Of  others,  again,  you  are 
perpetually  wondering  how  they  have  not  long 
ago  found  what  they  have  been  so  long  seeking; 
you  know  that,  employ  themselves  as  they  will 
in  this  world,  their  inward  thought  is  writing 
vanity  on  all  this  world  gives  them  —  they 
crave  a  spiritual  treasure. 

In  the  first  of  these  two  parables,  then,  we 
see  how  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  sometimes 
found  by  those  who  are  not  seeking  it.  The 
point  of  this  part  of  the  parable  and  its  distinc- 
tion from  the  other  seems  to  lie  in  this,  that 
while  the  man  was  giving  a  deeper  furrow  to 


94  THE  HID  TREASURE 

his  field,  intent  only  on  his  team,  his  plough- 
share suddenly  grated  on  the  slab  that  con- 
cealed or  rung  upon  the  chest  that  contained 
the  treasure,  or  turned  up  a  glittering  coin  that 
had  fallen  out  in  the  hasty  burial  of  the  store. 
Or  he  may  have  been  sauntering  through  a 
neighbour's  field,  when  his  eye  is  suddenly 
attracted  by  some  sign  which  makes  his  heart 
leap  to  his  mouth  and  fixes  him  for  the  moment 
to  the  spot,  because  he  knows  that  treasure 
must  be  there.  He  went  out  in  the  morning 
thinking  of  nothing  less  than  that  before  night- 
fall his  fortune  would  be  made — suddenly,  with- 
out effort  or  expectation  of  his,  he  sees  untold 
wealth  within  his  grasp.  He  knows  nothing  of 
the  history  of  the  treasure — does  not  know  on 
whose  feet  these  bright  anklets  gleamed  in  the 
dance,  knows  none  of  the  touching  memories 
that  are  associated  with  that  signet  ring,  nothing 
of  the  long  hard  strife  by  which  these  gold- 
pieces  were  acquired,  nor  of  the  disaster  which 
tore  them  from  the  reluctant  hand  of  the  pos- 
sessor. It  is  not  Jiis  blood  that  has  dyed  the 
gold  on  that  jewel-hilted  scimitar.  He  can 
imagine  the  careworn  man  when  trouble  and 
war  overran  the  land,  stealing  out  in  the  dark- 
ness and  making  his  treasure  secure,  and 
marking  it  by  signs  which,  alas  !  he  was  never 
again  to  note  ;  but  he  knozvs  nothing  of  him, 
knew  nothing  of  him.    Ages  before,  this  treasure 


AND  THE  PEARL  OF  PRICE.  95 

had  been  hid ;  for  him  it  had  been  prepared 
without  any  intention  or  labour  of  his,  and  now 
suddenly  he  lights  upon  it ;  out  of  poverty  he  to 
his  own  astonishment  steps  into  wealth,  and  his 
whole  life  is  changed  for  him  without  hope  or 
effort  of  his  own. 

So,  says  our  Lord,  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
Suddenly,   in    the   midst  of  other  thoughts    a 
man  is  brought  face  to  face  with  Christ,  and 
while   earning  his  daily  bread  and  seeking  for 
no  more  than  success  in  life  can  give  him,  un- 
expectedly finds    that    eternal    things    are  his. 
Christ  is  found  of  them  that  sought  Him  not. 
Is  it  not  often  so  .-'     The  man  has  begun  life 
not  thinking  that  any  very  great  thing  can  be 
made  of  it,  as  little  as  the  ploughman  expects 
to  be  lord  of  the  manor,  and  to  own  the  horses, 
lands,    and    comforts   of  the    proprietor.       He 
begins  with  the  idea  that  if  he  is  careful,  diligent, 
and    favoured    by   circumstances,  life    may  be 
pleasant.     He  has  a  prospect  of  a  decent,  com- 
fortable livelihood,  or,  at  the  best,  of  a  good- 
going    business,    with    margin    of    leisure   for 
friendly   intercourse,   the    reading   of    pleasant 
literature,  and  so  on.     He  is  confident  he  will 
marry  hajopily,   and    live    and   see  good  days. 
In  other  words,  he  has  extremely  modest  ex- 
pectations of  what  life  can  do  for  him  ;  has  no 
soaring  anticipations  of  "  the  ampler  aether,  the 
diviner  air,"  does  not  recognise  his  own  capacity 


96  THE  HID  TREASURE 

nor  the  size  he  may  grow  to,  but,  hke  the  child 
for  whom  the  world  can  do  no  more  if  he 
is  promised  some  favourite  toy,  fancies  that 
no  better  thing  can  come  to  him  than  houses, 
lands,  wife  and  children,  friendships  and  pros- 
perity. Or  if  he  once  had  visitings  of  a  higher, 
■'Ampler  hope,  and  seemed  to  see  that  round  and 
beyond  the  successes  of  business  and  the  com- 
mon pleasures  of  life  there  lay  a  limitless  ocean 
of  feeling  and  of  thought, — worlds  upon  worlds, 
like  the  starry  unfathomable  firmament,  in  which 
the  soul  might  find  expanse  and  joy  for  ever, — 
these  visions  have  been  wiped  out  by  the  coarse 
hand  of  some  early  sin,  or  have  been  worn  from 
the  surface  of  the  mind  by  the  hard  traffic  of  the 
world  ;  and  now  what  the  shrivelled  creature 
seeks  is  possibly  but  the  accomplishment  of  a 
daily  routine,  possibly  the  attainment  of  some 
poor  ambition,  or  the  wreaking  of  a  low  revenge, 
or  triumph  over  a  rival  who  has  defeated  him, 
or  possibly  not  even  anything  so  definite  as 
that.  He  had  a  vision  of  a  life  which  might 
fulfil  high  aims,  which  might  be  ennobled  and 
glorified  throughout  by  true  and  pervading 
fellowship  with  God,  he  once  was  confident  that 
what  the  human  imagination  could  conceive  of 
good,  that,  and  far  more  than  that,  was  possible 
to  the  human  nature,  and  to  every  man  who  had 
it;  but  that  bright  vision  has  passed  as  the 
morning,  all   aglow   with  light  and   freshness, 


AND  THE  PEARL  OF  PRICE.  97 

is   quenched    in    rain    and    cloud    and   gloomy 
wretchedness. 

This,  then,  is  in  point  of  fact  the  condition  of 
many  a  man  as  he  passes  through  life — he  has 
no  conception  of  the  blessedness  that  awaits  him, 
he  has  as  little  hope  of  any  supreme  and  com- 
plete felicity  as  the  man  of  the  parable  had  any 
expectation  of  lighting  upon  a  hid  treasure.   We 
only  think  of  what  we  can  make  of  life,  not  of  the 
wealth  God  has  laid  in  our  path.     But  suddenly 
our  steps  are  arrested  ;  circumstances  that  seem 
purely  accidental  break  down  the  partition  that 
has  hemmed   us  in  to  time,   and    we  see   that 
eternity  is  ours.     We  thought  we  had  a  house, 
100  acres  of  land,  ^1000  well  invested,  and  we    , 
find  we  have  God.     We  were  comforting  our- 
selves with  the  prospegt  of  increased  salary,  of 
ampler  comforts  and  advantages,  and  a  voice 
comes  ringing  through  our  soul,  "  all  things  are 
yours,  for  ye  are  Christ's  and  Christ  is  God's." 
Hoiu  it  is  that  the  eyes  are  now  opened  to  this 
treasure,  we  can  as  little  tell  as  the  ploughman  ]/\ 
who  has  driven  his  slow  steers  over  that  same 
field  since  first  he  could  guide  the  plough  but 
has  never  till  this  day  seen  the  treasure.    A  few 
words  casually  dropped,  a  sentence  read  in  an 
idle   moment,    some    break    in   our  prosperous 
course,  some  pause  which  allows  the  mind  to 
wander  in  unaccustomed  directions,— one  can- 
not say  what  is  insufificient  to  bring  the  wander- 
G 


98  THE  HID  TREASURE 

ing  and  empty  soul  to  a  settled  possession  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven,  for  the  treasure  seems 
to  be  his  before  he  looks  for  it,  before  he  feels 
his  need  of  it,  before  he  has  taken  thought  or 
steps  about  it.  This  morning  he  was  content  with 
what  a  man  can  have  outside  of  God's  kingdom : 
this  evening  everything  outside  that  kingdom 
has  lost  its  value  and  is  as  nothing.  The  man 
who  is  lost  in  mist  on  a  wild  hill  thinks  himself 
exceptionally  well  off  if  he  can  find  a  sheepfold 
to  give  him  shelter,  and  is  thankful  if  he  can 
see  two  steps  before  him  and  can  avoid  the 
precipice  ;  but  suddenly  the  sun  shines  out,  the 
mist  lifts,  and  he  sees  before  him  a  boundless 
prospect,  bright  placid  dwellings  of  men,  and 
his  path  leading  down  to  the  shining  valley 
with  all  its  stir  of  life,  and  now  what  comforted 
and  sufficed  him  before  is  all  forgotten. 

You  will  not  fail  in  passing  to  draw  the  infer- 
ence from  this  presentation  of  the  manner  of 
finding  the  kingdom,  that  conversions  which 
have  taken  place  quite  unexpectedly  and  with 
great  ease  on  the  part  of  the  converted  person, 
need  not  therefore  be  insufficient  and  hollow. 
We  are  very  apt  to  think  that  because  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  so  great  a  treasure  a  man 
should  spend  much  labour  in  attaining  it — that 
as  the  acceptance  of  Christ  is  the  most  import- 
ant attainment  a  man  can  make,  there  ought  to 
be  some  proportionate  effort  and  expectancy  on 


AND  THE  PEARL  OF  PRICE.       99 

his  part — that  so  great  a  treasure  is  not  to  be 
made  over  to  one  who  is  not  caring  for  it  or 
thinking  of  it.  But  this  parable  shows  us  that^ 
there  may  be  a  finding  without  any  previous 
seeking,  and  that  the  essential  thing  is,  not 
whether  a  man  has  been  seeking,  and  how  long, 
and  how  earnestly — no,  but  whether  a  man  has 
found.  The  man  in  the  parable  would  not  have 
found  more  in  that  spot  had  he  been  seeking 
more  and  seeking  it  elsewhere  all  his  days  ;  the 
buried  money  was  not  accumulating  interest 
while  he  was  spending  years  in  the  search.  The 
very  same  treasure  may  be  found  by  the  man 
who  has  grown  gray  in  the  quest  of  treasure, 
and  by  the  child  who  plays  in  the  field  ;  by  the 
alchemist  who  has  spent  his  life  in  examining  the 
boasted  tests  for  finding  treasure,  and  by  the 
labouring  man  who  has  never  heard  of  such 
tests  and  does  not  dream  of  .finding  sudden 
wealth.  The  question  is.  Docs  a  man  know  the 
value  of  what  has  turned  up  before  him,  and  is 
he  so  in  earnest  as  to  sell  all  for  it .''  Let  us  not 
hesitate  to  believe  that  in  one  hour  some  heed- 
less person  has  found  what  we  have  all  our  life 
been  seeking,  if  only  he  shows  his  appreciation 
of  the  treasure  by  parting  with  all  for  it 

The  second  parable  introduces  us  to  the 
other,  the  higher  type  of  man,  the  merchant- 
man— the  man  who  has  not  moderate  expecta- 
tions, who  refuses  ever  to  be  satisfied  until  he 


lOO  THE  HID  TREASURE 

has  all,  who  is  always  meditathig  new  ventures, 
and  to  whom  his  present  possessions  are  only 
of  value  as  the  means  of  acquiring  what  is  yet 
beyond  his  reach.  He  sets  out  with  the  inborn 
conviction  or  instinct  that  there  is  something 
worth  seeking,  worth  the  labour  and  the  search 
of  a  life,  something  which  will  abundantly 
repay  us,  and  to  which  we  can  wholly,  freely, 
and  eternally  give  ourselves  up,  and  on  which 
we  shall  delight  to  spend  our  whole  strength, 
capabilities,  and  life.  He  refuses  to  be  satisfied 
with  the  moderate,  often  interrupted  and  often 
quenched  joys  of  this  life.  He  considers  physical 
health,  the  respect  of  his  fellow-men,  a  good 
education,  good  social  position,  and  so  forth,  as 
all  goodly  pearls,  but  he  is  not  going  to  sit 
down  satisfied  with  these  things  if  there  is 
anything  better  to  be  had.  He  refuses  to  have 
anything  short,  of  the  best.  He  goes  on  from 
one  acquirement  to  another.  Money  is  good, 
he  at  first  thinks,  but  knowledge  is  better.  He 
parts  with  the  one  to  get  the  other.  Friendship 
is  good,  but  love  is  better,  and  he  cannot  satisfy 
himself  with  the  one,  but  must  also  have  the 
other.  The  respect  of  his  fellows  is  good,  but 
self-respect  and  a  pure  conscience  are  better. 
Human  love  is  a  goodly  pearl,  but  this  only 
quickens  him  to  crave  insatiably  for  the  love  of 
God.  He  must  always  have  what  is  beyond 
and  best.     He  refuses  to  believe  that  God  has 


AND  THE  PKARL  OF  PRICE.      lOI 

created  us  to  be  partially  satisfied,  happy  at 
intervals,  content  with  effort,  believing  ourselves 
blessed,  disguising  the  reality  of  our  condition 
by  the  aid  of  fancy,  or  fleeing  from  it  on  the 
wings  of  hope,  but  to  be  partakers  of  His  own 
blessedness,  and  to  enjoy  eternally  the  suffi- 
ciency of  Him  in  whom  are  all  things. 

This  spirit  of  expectation  is  encouraged  by 
the  parable.  It  seems  to  say  to  us.  Covet 
earnestly  the  best  gifts.  Never  make  up  your 
mind  merely  to  endure  or  merely  to  be  resigned. 
Test  what  you  have,  and  if  it  do  not  satisfy 
you  wholly,  seek  for  something  better.  It  is 
not  for  you  w^ho  have  a  God,  a  God  of  infinite 
resource  and  of  infinite  love,  to  accustom  your- 
selves to  merely  negative  blessings  and  doubt- 
ful, limited  conditions.  You  are  to  start  with 
the  belief  that  you  are  not  made  for  final  dis- 
appointment, nor  to  rest  content  with  some- 
thing less  than  you  once  hoped  for  or  can  now 
conceive,  but  that  there  is  somewhere,  and 
attainable  by  you,  the  most  unchallengeable 
felicity — that  there  does  exist  a  perfect  con- 
dition, a  pearl  of  great  price,  and  that  there  is 
but  a  question  of  the  way  to  it,  a  question  of 
search.  You  are  to  start  with  this  belief,  and 
you  are  to  hold  to  it  to  the  end.  Under  no 
compulsion  or  enticement,  in  the  face  of  no 
disappointment,  give  up  this  persuasion  that 
goodly  pearls  are  to  be  had,  and  to  be  had  by 


I02  THE  HID  TREASURE 

you,  that  into  your  life  and  soul  the  full  sense 
of  ample  possession  is  one  day  to  enter.  When 
you  come  up  from  a  breathless  eager  search 
like  the  pearl-diver,  spent  and  bleeding,  and 
with  your  hands  filled  only  with  mud  or  worth- 
less shells  ;  or  when,  like  the  merchant,  you  have 
ventured  your  all,  and  are  reduced  to  beggary 
and  thrown  back  to  the  very  beginning,  the 
great  hope  of  your  life  being  taken  from  you  ; 
when  all  your  days  seem  to  have  been  wasted  in 
fruitless  search  ;  when  every  feeling  within  you 
rises  up  in  mutiny  against  you,  and  like  an 
ignorant  crew  scorns  your  adventure,  and  would 
put  about  and  run  with  the  wind  back  from  the 
new  world  you  seek,  put  them  down  ;  you  have 
certainty  on  your  side,  simple,  sheer  certainty, 
for  "he  that  seeketh, j^//c/t'//^." 

The  important  point  in  these  parables  is  that 
-which  is  common  to  both.  The  teaching  which 
our  Lord  desires  to  convey  by  their  means 
regards  the  incomparable  value  of  the  kingdom 
of  heaven,  and  the  readiness  with  which  one 
who  perceives  its  value  will  give  up  all  for  it. 
He  wishes  us  to  consider  the  alacrity,  gladness, 
and  assurance  with  which  one  who  apprehends 
the  value  of  the  kingdom  will  and  should  put 
aside  everything  which  prevents  him  from 
making  it  his  own.  It  is  the  usual,  universal, 
mercantile  feeling.  The  merchant  does  not 
part    with    his    other    possessions    reluctantly 


AND  THE  PEARL  OF  PRICE.  I  03 

when  he  wishes  to  obtain  some  better  posses- 
sion ;  he  longs  to  get  rid  of  them  ;  he  goes  into 
the  investment  about  which  he  has  satisfied  him- 
self with  thorough  good  will ;  he  clears  out  as 
fast  as  he  can  from  every  other  investment,  and 
endeavours  to  realize  wherever  he  can  that  he 
may  have  his  means   free  for  this  better  and 
more  productive  venture.     People  who  do  not 
know  its  value  may  think  the  man  mad  selling 
out  at  low  prices,  at  unsuitable  times,  at  a  loss ; 
but  he  knows  what  he  is  doing.     I  don't  care 
what  I  lose,  he  says  to  himself,  for  if  I  can  only 
get  that  field  I  shall  have  infinite  compensation 
for  my  losses.     As  soon  as  he  has  made  up  his 
mind  that  there  is  a  treasure  in  the  field,  he  is 
filled  with  tremulous,  sleepless  eagerness,  till  he 
makes  it  his  own.     Day  and  night  his  heart  is 
there  and   his  thoughts.      His  dreams  are  full 
of  visions  of  possession,  or  of  heart-breaking 
failure.     His  waking  hours  are  nervously  agi- 
tated by  fears  and  schemings.     He  always  finds 
that    his    road    home    lies   past  the  longed-for 
property.     He  is  jealous  of  the  very  birds  that 
hover  over  it.     The  world  is  full  of  stories,  and 
every  day  adds  to  the  stock  of  stories  that  dis- 
play the  ingenuity,  craft,  perseverance,  consum- 
ing zeal,  spent  in  winning  the  bit  of  ground 
that   is   coveted.      No   labour   is   grudged,    no 
sacrifice  is  shrunk  from,  no  present  poverty  is  a 
trial  if  it  brings  the  coveted  property  nearer. 


I04  THE  HID  TREASURE 

But  is  this  a  similitude  for  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  ?  Is  it  not  rather  a  picture  of  what 
ought  to  be  than  of  what  is  ?  What  we  com- 
monly find  is  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  not 
so  esteemed.  We  see  men  hesitating  to  part 
with  anything  for  it,  looking  at  it  as  a  sad  alter- 
native, as  a  resort  to  which  they  must  perhaps 
betake  themselves  when  too  old  to  enjoy  life 
any  longer,  as  what  they  may  have  to  come  to 
when  all  the  real  joy  and  intensity  of  life  are 
gone,  but  not  as  that  on  which  life  itself  can 
best  be  spent.  Entrance  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  looked  upon  much  as  entrance  into 
the  fortified  town  is  viewed  by  the  rural  popula- 
tion. It  may  be  necessary  in  time  of  danger,  but 
they  will  think  with  longing  of  the  fields  and 
homesteads  they  must  abandon  ;  it  is  by  con- 
straint, not  from  love,  that  they  make  the  change. 
In  short,  it  is  plain  that  men  generally  do  not 
reckon  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  be  of  such 
value  that  they  sacrifice  everything  else  for  its 
sake.  And  it  is  of  supreme  importance  that  we 
should  clearly  see  the  grounds  on  which  we  base 
our  confidence  that  we  ourselves  are  exceptions 
to  the  general  rule,  if  we  have  such  a  confidence. 
Have  we  really  shown  any  of  that  mercantile 
eagerness  which  the  parable  speaks  of ,-'  Have 
we  in  any  way  shown  that  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  first  in  our  thoughts.''  What  meaning 
has  this  "  sellinsf  of  all  "  in  our  life  ? 


AND  THE  PEARL  OF  TRICE.  IO5 

For  it  is  to  be  observed  that  there  always  is 
this  selling  wherever  the  kingdom  is  won.  We 
have  it  not  at  all  unless  we  have  given  all  for  it. 
It  is  like  a  choice  between  living  in  the  town  or 
in  the  country.  We  know  we  cannot  do  both, 
and  inTorder  to  secure  the  advantages  of  the  one 
kind  of  life  we  must  give  up  those  of  the  other. 
So,  living  for  ourselves  prevents  us  from  living 
for  God,  and  we  cannot  do  the  one  without  wholly 
giving  up  the  other.  If  you  value  the  kingdom 
of  God  more  than  all  else,  you  wall  eagerly  give 
up  everything  that  prevents  your  winning  it ;  but 
no  mere  pretended  esteem  for  it  will  prompt 
you  to  make  the  needful  sacrifices,  or  will 
actually  give  you  possession.  If  you  do  not 
really  desire  the  kingdom  more  than  aught  else, 
then  you  have  not  found  it.  A  feigned  desire 
does  not  move  us  to  obtain  anything.  It  is 
what  you  really  love  that  you  spend  thought  and 
effort  and  money  upon,  not  what  you  know  you 
ought  to  love,  and  are  trying  to  persuade  your- 
self to  love. 

In  conclusion,  this  parable  lets  fall  these  two 
words  of  warning — i.  Make  your  calculations, 
and  act  accordingly.  If  you  think  the  world 
will  pay  you  better  than  Christ,  then  serve  it  ; 
give  yourself  heartily  and  without  compunction 
to  it.  Do  not  be  so  weak  as  to  allow  thoughts 
of  things  eternal  and  a  spiritual  world  you  have 
forsaken  to  haunt  you  and  spoil  your  enjoyment. 


I06  THE  HID  TREASURE 

Make  your  choice  and  act  upon  it.  If  there  is 
no  better  pearl,  no  richer  treasure  than  what 
you  can  win  by  devotion  to  business  and  living 
for  yourself,  then  by  all  means  choose  that,  and 
make  the  most  of  it.  But  if  you  think  that 
Christ  was  right,  if  you  foresee  that  what  is 
outside  His  kingdom  must  perish,  and  that  He 
has  gathered  within  it  all  that  is  worthy,  all  that 
is  enduring,  all  that  is  as  it  ought  to  be,  if  you 
know  that  you  are  not  and  can  never  be  blessed 
outside  that  kingdom,  then  let  the  reasonableness 
and  remonstrance  of  this  parable  move  you  to 
show  some  eagerness  in  winning  that  great  trea- 
sure. Make  your  choice  and  act  upon  it.  Let 
your  mind  dwell  on  the  objects  Christ  has  in 
view  till  you  become  enamoured  of  them,  and 
till  they  alone  draw  you  and  command  your 
effort.  Strive  to  shake  off  the  pitiful  avarice, 
the  timorous  anxieties,  the  cowardly  self-seeking, 
the  low,  earthly,  stupid  aims  of  the  man  who 
serves  the  world,  and  let  the  Spirit  of  Christ 
draw  you  into  fellowship  with  His  aims,  and 
give  you  a  place  in  His  kingdom. 

2.  If  you  have  this  treasure,  do  not  murmur 
at  the  price  you  have  paid  for  it.  If  you  have 
to  forego  earthly  advancement,  if  you  are  in- 
wardly constrained  to  part  with  money  which 
might  have  brought  many  comforts,  if  you  have 
been  drawn  to  do  things  which  are  misconstrued 
and  which   make  you   feel   aA\kward  with  your 


AND  TIIK  PEARL  OF  PRICE.  \OJ 

friends,  if  self  asserts  itself  again  and  again,  and 
claims  pleasure  and  gain  and  gratification  of 
various  kinds,  do  not  murmur  at  what  the  king- 
dom is  costing  you,  but  rather  count  over  your 
treasure,  and  see  how  much  more  you  have  than 
you  have  lost.  Having  what  worlds  cannot  buy, 
you  will  surely  not  vex  yourself  by  longing  for 
this  or  that  which  the  poorest-spirited  slave  of 
this  world  can  easily  obtain.  Suppose  you  had 
the  offer  to  barter  your  interest  in  the  kingdom 
for  any  or  all  of  the  possessions,  advantages, 
and  pleasures  you  arc  deprived  of,  you  would 
not  do  it  ;  if,  then,  in  your  own  judgment  and 
by  your  own  deliberate  choice  you  have  the 
better  portion,  it  is  scarcely  fair  to  bewail  your- 
self as  an  ill-used  person.  Anything  you  have 
been  required  to  give  up  for  the  kingdom's  sake 
was  either  of  no  real  value — it  was  the  coin 
which,  so  long  as  you  kept  it,  could  neither 
warm  nor  clothe  you,  and  whose  only  use  was 
to  buy  valuables  ;  or  if  of  real  value,  the  relin- 
quishment of  it  has  given  you  what  is  of 
infinite  value. 


VI. 
THE    NET 


' '  Again,  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  like  unto  a  net,  that  was 
cast  into  the  sea,  and  gathered  of  every  kind:  which,  when  it  zvas 
full,  they  drezv  to  shore,  and  sat  down,  and  gathered  the  good 
into  vessels,  but  cast  the  had  away.  So  shall  it  be  at  the  end  of 
the  zvorld:  the  angels  shall  come  forth,  and  sever  the  wicked  from 
among  the  Just,  and  shall  cast  them  into  the  furnace  of  fire:  there 
shall  be  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth.'"— y^kl'X.  xiii.  47-50. 


THE  NET. 

Matt.   xiii.  47-50. 

In  the  foregoing  parables  of  the  kingdom  Jesus 
has  pointed  out  the  causes  of  its  success  and 
faiku'e,  its  mixed  appearance  in  this  world,  its 
surprising  growth  from  small  beginnings,  and 
the  method  of  its  extension.  He  now  points  to 
the  result  of  all,  when  the  great  net  shall  be 
drawn  to  shore,  all  the  influences  and  efforts  of 
this  life  ended  and  brought  to  a  pause ;  when 
there  shall  be  "  no  more  sea,"  no  fluctuation,  no 
ebb  and  flow,  no  tide  of  good  resolve  and  pro- 
gress sucked  back  from  all  it  had  reached,  and 
leaving  a  foul  and  slimy  beach  ;  especially  no 
mingling  of  bad  and  good  in  an  obscure  and 
confusing  element ;  but  decision  and  separation, 
a  deliberate  sitting  down  to  see  what  has  been 
made  of  this  world  by  us  all,  and  a  summing  up 
on  that  eternal  shore  of  all  gains  and  results, 
and  every  man's  aim  made  manifest  by  his  end. 
There  is  obviously  considerable  resemblance 
between  this  parable  of  the  net  and  the  parable 
of  the  tares.  But  the  one  is  not  a  mere  repe- 
tition   of  the   other   under   a   different    fierure. 


I  1  2  THE  NET. 

Every  parable  is  intended  to  illustrate  one 
truth.  Light  may  incidentally  be  shed  on  other 
points,  as  you  cannot  turn  your  eye  or  the  light 
you  carry  on  the  object  you  wish  to  examine 
without  seeing  and  shedding  light  on  other 
things  as  well.  Now  the  one  truth  which  is 
especially  enforced  in  the  parable  of  the  tares 
is  that  it  is  dangerous  in  the  extreme  to  attempt 
in  this  present  time  to  separate  the  evil  from  the 
good  in  the  Church  :  whereas  the  one  truth  to 
which  the  parable  of  the  net  gives  prominence 
is  that  this  sepan'atJQn  will  be  effected  by  and  by 
in  its  own  suitable  time.  No  doubt  this  future 
separation  appears  in  the  parable  of  the  tares 
also,  but  in  that  parable  it  is  introduced  for  the 
sake  of  lending  emphasis  to  the  warning  against 
attempting  a  separation  now  :  in  this  parable  of 
the  net  it  is  introduced  with  no  such  purpose. 
A  weeding  process  might  very  naturally  suggest 
itself,  indeed  always  does  suggest  itself,  to  one 
looking  over  a  hedge  at  a  dirty  field ;  but  no 
one  watching  the  drawing  of  a  net  would  dream 
of  plunging  in  to  throw  out  worthless  fish.  Let 
the  net  be  drawn ;  then,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
the  separation  will  be  made.  The  value  of  the 
take,  which  cannot  yet  be  estimated,  will  be 
ascertained  by  and  by.  The  whole  results  of 
the  work  of  Christ  in  the  world  will  then  but  not 
sooner  be  known. 

iVnother  point  of  distinction  between  the  two 


THE  NET. 


113 


parables  is  this,  that  while  in  the  one  parable 
the  springing  of  tares  among  the  good  corn  is 
ascribed  to  the  design  of  an  enemy,  in  the 
other  the  mixture  of  good  and  bad  in  the  net 
is  rather  exhibited  as  necessarily  resulting  from 
the  nature  of  the  case.  In  hunting,  a  man  can 
make  his  choice  and  pick  out  the  finest  of  the 
herd,  letting  the  rest  go ;  but  in  fishing  with  a 
net  no  such  selection  is  possible;  all  must  be 
drawn  to  shore  that  happens  to  have  been 
embraced  within  the  sweep  of  the  net.  So  in 
sending  out  His  servants  to  invite  men  to  the 
kingdom,  our  Lord  did  not  name  individuals  to 
whom  they  were  to  go,  and  who  should,  from 
first  to  last,  prove  themselves  obedient  to  the 
word  ;  He  did  not  even  name  classes  of  persons 
or  races  with  whom  they  would  be  sure  to  find 
.success,  but  He  told  them  to  go  into  all  the 
world  and  invite  all  men  without  distinction. 
The  preachers  of  the  kingdom  have  no  powers 
to  make  selections  for  God  ;  and  to  say  of  one 
that  he  will  be,  and  of  another  that  he  will  never 
be  valuable  to  God.  They  are  to  cast  the  net 
so  as  to  embrace  all,  and  leave  the  determination 
of  what  is  bad  and  what  is  good  to  the  end. 

Before  endeavouring  to  extract  from  the 
parable  its  direct  teaching,  one  cannot  fail  to 
notice  some  more  general  ideas  suggested  by 
the  figure  used.  We  are,  for  example,  reminded 
that  we  are  all  advancing  through  life  towards 
H 


I  1  4  THE  NET. 

its  final  issue.  Our  condition  in  this  respect 
bears  a  close  resemblance  to  fish  enclosed  in  a 
net.  You  have  seen  men  dragging-  a  river, 
fixing  one  end  of  the  net,  taking  the  other 
across  the  whole  stream,  and  then  fetching  a 
wide  compass,  and  enclosing  in  their  net  every- 
thing dead  or  alive,  bad  or  good,  from  surface 
to  bottom.  Or  you  have  seen  the  same  thing- 
done  in  the  sea,  one  net  enclosing  quite  a  lake 
within  itself,  and  gradually  as  it  closes  round 
the  fish,  and  they  find  that  it  is  sunk  to  the 
sand  and  floated  to  the  crest  of  the  wave,  you 
have  pitied  their  wild  efforts  to  escape,  and  seen 
how  sure  a  barrier  these  imperceptible  meshes 
are.  At  first,  while  the  net  is  wide,  they  frisk 
and  leap  and  seem  free,  but  soon  they  discover 
that  their  advance  is  but  in  one  direction,  and 
when  they  halt  they  feel  the  pressure  of  the  net. 
So  is  it  with  ourselves — we  vmst  go  on,  we 
cannot  break  through  into  the  past,  we  cannot 
ever  again  be  at  the  same  distance  from  the 
shore  as  we  were  last  year,  yesterday,  now. 
Yesterday,  however  delightful,  you  cannot  live 
twice ;  eternity,  however  distasteful,  you  are 
certainly  going  on  to.  I'his  day  you  have  less 
space  and  scope  than  ever  you  had  before,  and 
every  hour  you  spend,  every  action  you  do, 
every  pleasure  you  enjoy  makes  this  little  space 
less.  You  cannot  make  time  stand  still  till  you 
shall    resolve   how  to  spend    it.      You    cannot 


THE  NET.  I  15 

bring  your  life  to  a  pause  while  you  make 
experiments  as  to  the  best  mode  of  living. 
The  years  you  spend  ill,  you  cannot  receive 
again  to  spend  well  ;  the  years  spent  in  inde- 
cision, in  doubt,  in  selfish  seclusion  are  spent, 
and  cannot  now  be  filled  with  service  of  God 
and  profit  to  your  fellows.  Your  lifetime  you 
have  but  once,  and  each  hour  of  it  but  once  ; 
and  as  remorselessly  as  the  last  night  of  the 
convicted  criminal  is  beat  out  and  brings  round 
the  morning  that  is  to  look  upon  his  death,  so 
are  your  lives  running  steadily  out,  never  faster 
w^hen  you  long  for  to  morrow,  never  slower 
when  you  fear  it,  but  ever  with  the  same 
measured  and  certain  advance.  Do  what  you 
will,  make  what  plans  you  will,  settle  yourself 
as  fixedly  in  this  life  as  you  will,  you  are 
passing  through  and  out  of  it,  and  shall  one  day 
look  on  it  as  all  past— for  ever  past.  By  no 
will  of  our  own  have  we  come  into  this  life,  but 
here  w^e  find  ourselves  and  the  net  fallen  behind 
us,  so  that  we  must  accept  all  the  responsibilities 
of  human  life,  and  go  on  to  meet  all  its  conse- 
quences. 

Besides  enclosure  and  inevitable  passing  on 
to  a  termination,  the  net  suggests  the  idea  of 
entanglement.  Looking  at  fish  in  a  net  you  see 
many  that  are  not  swimming  freely,  but  are 
caught  in  the  meshes  and  dragged  on.  The 
experience  of  some  persons   interprets  this  to 


I  1 6  THE  NET. 

them.  While  all  of  us  are  drawing  on  together 
towards  eternity  there  are  some  who  feel  daily 
the  pressure  of  the  net.  They  have  got  into 
circumstances  which  they  would  fain  be  out  of 
but  cannot.  Their  position  is  not  altogether  of 
their  own  choosing,  and  they  discharge  its  duties 
because  they  must,  not  because  they  would. 
At  some  former  period  they  were  too  careless, 
or  shortsighted,  or  irresolute  ;  they  exercised  too 
little  their  right  to  determine  their  own  course, 
and  they  now  suffer  the  bondage  consequent  on 
this  neglect. 

If  the  conduct  required  of  you  by  the  position 
or  connection  into  which  you  have  come  be  dis- 
approved by  your  conscience,  then  you  must 
somehow  break  through  and  escape,  else  your 
soul  will  suffer  detriment,  and  that  in  you 
which  was  good  when  first  you  were  entangled 
will  be  landed  broken,  bruised,  and  useless. 
But  if  the  conduct  required  be  only  disagreeable 
and  humiliating  and  not  sinful,  you  may  have  to 
adjust  yourself  to  your  circumstances.  Do  not 
toss  and  struggle  in  the  net,  but  quietly  set 
yourself  to  make  the  most  of  the  condition  you 
have  unfortunately  brought  yourself  into.  It 
may  now  be  your  duty  to  continue  in  a  position 
it  was  not  your  duty  originally  to  enter.  A 
wrong  choice  may  have  brought  you  to  a  right 
thing.  Do  not,  therefore,  allow  any  feeling  of 
the  awkwardness,  restrictions,  unsuitableness,  or 


THE  NET.  T  I  7 

painfulncss  of  your  position,  nor  any  reflections 
on  the  folly  that  brought  you  into  it,  to  fret  you 
into  uselessness.  Just  because  it  seems  in  so 
many  ways  unsuitable,  it  may  call  out  deeper 
qualities  in  you,  a  patience  which  otherwise 
might  have  been  undeveloped,  a  knowledge  of 
God  and  man,  a  meekness  and  strength,  which 
enlarge  and  mature  your  spirit. 

Under  very  strange  influences  and  forces  are 
we  passing  onwards;  by  hopes  and  ambitions,  by 
sickness  and  watching,  by  anguish  and  mirth,  by 
the  forlorn  remembrance  of  a  happy  past  and 
the  sad  forecasting  of  the  future,  by  occupations 
that  hurry  us  on  from  day  to  day,  and  by  long- 
ings that  abide  with  us  through  life  and  arc 
never  satisfied.  And  often  we  would  fain  escape 
from  the  gentle  compulsion  by  which  God  draws 
us  to  our  end,  and  have  to  remind  ourselves  that 
however  entangled  and  tied  up  we  are,  and 
however  prevented  from  our  own  ways  and 
directions,  this  present  time  is  after  all  but 
the  drawing  of  the  net  and  not  the  time  of  our 
use ;  that  though  now  debarred  from  many 
pursuits  we  think  we  might  be  useful  in,  and 
hurried  past  enjoyments  that  delight  us,  we  are 
passing  to  a  shore  where  there  is  room  and  time 
enough  for  the  fulfilment  of  every  human  pur- 
pose and  the  exercise  of  every  human  faculty  ; 
that  after  all  our  sins  and  follies,  after  all  our 
pains  and  anxieties  and  difficulties,  there  does 


I  I  8  THE  NET. 

most  surely  come  the  kingdom  of  heaven  and  its 
glorious  liberty.  Here  we  quickly  wax  old,  our 
freedom  of  choice  and  liberty  of  action  are 
quickly  taken  from  us,  we  stretch  forth  our  hands 
and  another  girds  us  and  carries  us  whither  we 
would  not  ;  but  there  our  youth  shall  be  re- 
newed with  all  its  freedom  from  care,  its  spring 
and  energy,  its  fresh  views  of  truth,  its  boldness 
to  live  and  see  good  days,  its  purpose  for  the 
life  that  lies  before  it  unsullied  ;  and  it  shall  be 
again  as  when  "  thou  wast  young  and  girdedst 
thyself  and  walkedst  whither  thou  wouldest." 

But  these  are  not  the  points  emphasised  in 
the  parable.  The  parable  sets  the  present 
mixture  of  good  and  bad  in  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  or  in  the  Church  over  against  the 
eventual  separation. 

r.  First  then,  we  have  the  truth  that  the  net 
gathers  "  of  every  kind."  This  is  the  first  thing 
that  strikes  one  looking  at  a  net  drawn  ashore — 
the  confused  mass  of  dead  and  living  rubbish  and 
prize.  Shells,  mud,  starfish,  salt-smelling  weed, 
useless  refuse  of  all  kinds,  are  mingled  with 
the  fresh  and  wholesome  fish  that  He  gasping  and 
floundering  in  the  net.  Of  the  bad  there  is 
every  kind  of  thing  that  can  spoil  the  net  and 
injure  its  contents  ;  and  of  the  good  there  is 
every  kind,  small  and  great,  coarse  and  fine. 
And  until  the  net  is  fairly  landed  it  is  impossible 
to  say  whether  the  weight  is  to  be  rejoiced  in  or 


THE  NET.  1  19 

not.  This  is  set  before  us  as  a  picture  of  the 
Church  of  Christ  as  it  now  is.  It  embraces 
every  variety  of  character.  At  one  time  we  arc 
tempted  to  think  that  the  mass  of  professing 
Christians  is  but  so  much  dead  weight ;  at  other 
times  we  measure  the  success  of  the  gospel  by 
the  mere  numbers  brought  within  the  Church. 
The  truth  is,  we  cannot  yet  say  much  about  the 
success  of  the  gospel.  Occasionally  indeed 
there  may  be  a  gleam  through  the  water  that 
gives  assurance  of  a  large  and  fine  fish:  there 
may  be  deeds  done  which  draw  the  eye  of  every 
one,  and  unmistakably  prove  that  in  the  Church 
there  are  men  after  God's  own  heart.  We  feel 
that  of  some  men  the  character  and  quality  are 
already  ascertained,  and  that  it  needs  no  day  of 
separation  to  tell  us  their  worth.  But  there 
remains  a  vast  mass  about  which  we  can  say 
little ;  nay,  we  know  that  in  the  Church  there 
are  foul,  lumpish,  poisonous  creatures.  This  is 
what  our  Lord  anticipated,  that  while  His 
Church  would  attract  men  whom  God  would 
gather  to  Him  with  delight  as  being  of  His  own 
spirit,  there  would  also  be  drawn  to  it  a  number 
of  wretched  creatures  who  would  go  through  life 
trying  to  hide  from  themselves  that  they  love 
the  world  much  more  than  God,  and  who  must 
in  the  end  be  thrown  aside  as  fit  for  no  good 
purpose,  as  so  much  useless  rubbish. 

This  mixture  arises  from  the  manner  in  which 


I20  THE  NET. 

the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  proclaimed  among 
men.  It  is  not  proclaimed  by  addressing  private 
messages  to  selected  and  approved  individuals, 
but  publicly  to  all.  And  it  is  so  proclaimed 
because  it  is  for  men  generally  and  not  for  any 
special  kind  or  class,  and  because  God  "  would 
have  all  men  to  be  saved."  The  recruiting 
sergeant  watches  for  likely  men  and  singles 
them  out  from  the  crowd  ;  but  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  opens  its  gates  to  all,  because  it  has 
that  which  appeals  to  humanity  at  large,  and  can 
make  use  of  every  kind  of  man  who  honestly 
attaches  himself  to  it.  Our  freedom  of  choice  is 
left  absolutely  uncontrolled  so  far  as  the  outward 
offer  of  the  gospel  goes ;  it  is  not  even  biassed 
by  any  knowledge  on  our  part  that  we  are  con- 
sidered specially  suitable  for  the  work  God  has 
to  do.  Christ's  kingdom  gathers  in  not  only 
those  in  whom  there  is  a  natural  leaning  towards 
a  devout  life,  or  those  who  are  of  a  susceptible 
temperament,  or  those  who  are  attracted  by  a 
life  of  self-sacrifice,  but  it  gathers  in  "of  every 
kind."  You  really  cannot  say  who  among  your 
friends  is  most  likely  to  become  a  Christian, 
because  men  become  Christians  not  from  any 
apparent  predisposition,  not  because  religion 
suits  their  idiosyncrasy,  their  individual  mood 
and  special  tastes,  but  because  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  satisfies  human  wants  which  are  as 
common  to  the  race  as  hunger  and  thirst.     But 


THE  NET.  1  2  I 

the  kingdom  being  thus  open  to  all,  many  enter 
it  for  the  sake  of  some  of  its  advantages,  while 
they  remain  at  heart  disloyal,  and  are  never 
carried  out  of  themselves  by  a  sense  of  its  glory, 
and  are  alien  to  that  great  movement  for  the 
lasting  good  of  men  which  the  kingdom  truly  is. 
They  have  an  external  present  attachment  to 
the  kingdom,  but  they  do  not  belong  to  it  and 
are  not  in  it  heart  and  soul. 

But  this  mixture  is  at  length  to  give  place. 
In  the  net,  while  we  are  in  this  world,  all  dis- 
tinctions seem  to  be  made  light  of;  in  the  end, 
on  the  shore,  a  final  and  real  distinction  is  to  be 
exhibited  and  acted  on.  All  are  to  pass  through 
the  hands  of  skilled  judgment.  The  angels 
sever  the  wicked  from  among  the  just,  so  that 
the  just  alone  are  left  in  the  net.  The  purpose 
of  the  net,  of  the  draught,  of  the  whole  ongoing 
of  this  world  is  at  length  seen  to  have  been  for 
the  sake  of  the  just.  Much  bulkier,  weightier, 
noisier,  brighter-coloured,  more  curious  things 
are  drawn  up,  but  these  are  cast  aside  summarily 
— it  was  not  to  secure  these  the  net  was  drawn. 
The  fishermen  were  not  mere  naturalists  drag- 
ging for  what  is  curious  and  rare ;  not  mere 
idlers  fishing  for  sport  and  caring  little  for  the 
7ise  of  the  result;  not  mere  children  amazed  and 
delighted  with  every  strange  or  huge  thing  they 
land  ;  but  they  have  cast  the  net  for  a  purpose, 
and  whatever  is  not  suitable  for  this  purpose  is 


122  THE  NET. 

refuse  and  rubbish  to  them.  The  huge  creature 
that  has  been  a  terror  to  the  deep,  the  lovely 
sea  plant  that  has  waved  its  fruitless  head  in  the 
garden  of  the  sea — these  are  not  twice  looked  at 
by  the  fishermen.  They  are  acting  on  an 
understanding  that  the  net  was  drawn  for  a 
purpose. 

And  so  it  shall  be  in  the  end  of  the  world. 
The  end  is  not  a  mere  running  down  of  the 
machinery  that  keeps  the  world  going,  it  is  not 
a  mere  exhaustion  of  the  life  that  keeps  us  all 
alive,  it  is  not  a  hap-hazard  cutting  of  the  thread ; 
it  is  a  conclusion,  coming  as  truly  in  its  own  fit 
day  and  order,  as  much  in  the  fulness  of  time 
and  because  things  are  ripe  for  it,  as  the  birth 
of  Christ  came.  It  is  the  time  of  the  gathering 
up  of  all  things  to  completion,  when  the  few 
last  finishing  strokes  are  given  to  the  work,  that 
suddenly  show  the  connection  of  things  which 
seemed  widely  separate,  and  reveal  at  once  the 
purpose  and  meaning  of  the  whole.  Men  will 
then  understand,  what  now  scarcely  one  can 
constantly  believe,  that  it  is  God's  purpose  that 
is  silently  being  accomplished,  and  that  it  is 
usefulness  to  Him  that  is  the  final  standard  of 
value. 

The  distinction  which  finally  separates  men 
into  two  classes  must  be  real  and  profound.  It 
is  here  said  to  be  our  value  to  God.  Are  we 
useless  to  Him,  or  can   He  make  us  serve  any 


THE  NET.  >23 

good  purpose  ?  Have  we  become  so  wholly 
demoralized  by  a  selfish,  limited  life,  that  we 
cannot  cherish  any  cordial  desire  for  the  com- 
mon good,  or  enter  into  sympathy  with  pur- 
poses that  do  not  promise  profit  or  pleasure  to 
ourselves  ?  You  have  some  idea  what  the  pur- 
poses of  God  are ;  you  see  these  purposes  in 
the  life  and  death  of  Christ  ;  you  know  that  in 
God's  purposes  that  which  contributes  to  the 
elevation  of  character  takes  precedence  of  what 
merely  secures  outward  comfort  or  present  ad- 
vantage ;  you  recognise  that  His  Spirit  delights 
in  deeds  of  mercy,  of  self-sacrifice,  of  holy 
service — have  you,  then,  such  qualities  as  would 
be  helpful  in  carrying  out  such  purposes  ?  are 
you  already  influential  in  society  for  good, 
helpful  in  extirpating  vice  and  crime,  and  in 
alleviating  the  wretchedness  of  disease  and 
poverty  ?  do  your  sympathies  and  your  thoughts 
run  much  towards  such  an  expenditure  of  your 
energies  ?  have  you  the  first  requisite  of  His 
servants,  such  a  participation  in  His  love  for 
men,  and  such  a  zeal  for  the  advancement  of 
the  race  as  wither  within  you  all  isolating  and 
debasing  selfishness  ? 

The  fish  taken  in  the  net  are  disposed  of  by 
the  fishermen,  and  are  in  their  hands  without 
choice  or  motion.  A  minute  before,  they  were 
swimming  hither  and  thither,  moving  themselves 
by  their  own  energies  ;  now  they  are  dealt  with 


I  24  THE  NET. 

according  to  a  judgment  not  their  own.  The 
situation  is  not  more  novel  to  the  fishes  than  it 
will  be  to  us.  Here  in  this  world,  we  are  con- 
scious of  a  power  to  choose  our  own  destiny,  to 
change  our  character,  and  become  different 
from  what  we  are.  We  are  not  yet  all  we  ought 
to  be,  but  we  can  discard  evil  habits,  repress 
base  motives,  and  become  at  length  suitable 
for  God's  work,  harmonious  with  Him  through 
all  our  being.  So  we  flatter  ourselves.  But 
there  comes  a  time,  when,  whatever  we  are, 
that  we  shall  for  ever  be  ;  when  we  shall  be,  as 
it  were,  passive  in  the  grip  of  destiny,  disposed 
of  by  it,  and  unable  to  resist  or  alter  it  ;  when 
we  shall  find  that  the  time  for  choosing  is  past, 
and  that  we  must  accept  and  abide  by  the  con- 
sequences of  our  past  choices  ;  when  for  us  the 
irrevocable  word  shall  have  gone  forth,  "He 
that  is  filthy,  let  him  be  filthy  still ;  and  he  that 
is  holy,  let  him  be  holy  still." 

Amidst  the  sudden  revolutions  of  thought  and 
revulsions  of  feeling,  amidst  the  utter  discom- 
fiture of  many  a  hope  on  that  day  when  the  net 
is  drawn  and  we  are  all  suddenly  thrown  out  on 
the  eternal  shore,  will  your  hope  not  fail  you  .-' 
As  you  anticipate  the  hand  that  is  to  separate 
the  good  from  the  bad,  do  you  rejoice  that  a 
penetrating  eye  and  an  unerring  wisdom  will 
guide  it .''  do  you  rejoice  that  it  is  God  who  is 
coming  to   judge    the  world    in   righteousness, 


THE  NET.  125 

and  that  no  mistake  can  be  made,  no  superficial 
distinction  hide  the  real  one  ? 

It  is  possible  some  one  may  defend  himself 
against  the  parable  by  saying,  "  I  will  not  alarm 
myself  by  judging  of  my  destiny  by  my  own 
qualities;  I  am  trusting  to  Christ."    But  precisely 
in  so  far  as  you  are  trusting  to  Christ,  you  have 
those  qualities  which  the  final  judgment  will 
require  you   to  show.     "  If  any  man  hath  not 
the  Spirit  of  Christ,  he  is  none  of  His."    You  are 
useful  to  God  in  so  far  as  you  have  the  Spirit 
of  Christ.     Plainly  the  criterion  given   by  the 
parable  is  the  only  sufficient  criterion  by  which 
men  can  be  judged  as  they  issue  from  this  life. 
Are  they  in  such  sympathy  with  God  as  to  be 
capable  of  entering  into  His  work  and  ways  in 
the  future,  or  have  they  only  cultivated  habits 
and  qualities  which  served  them  for  a  life  that 
is  now  past .-'     Only  by  what  we  are,  can  we  be 
finally  judged  ;  not  by  what  we  believe,  but  by 
what  our  belief  has  made  us  ;  not  by  what  we 
profess,  not  by  what  we  know,  but  by  the  results 
in  character  of  what  we  have    professed    and 
known.     In  the  final  judgment,  we  shall  not  be 
required  to  assert  that  we  are  converted  persons, 
or  that  we  are  trusting  in  Christ  ;  we  shall  not 
be  required  to  assert  any  thing  ;  but  our  future 
shall  be  determined  by  our  actual  fitness  for  it. 
Fitness  for  carrying  on  God's  work  in  the  future, 
fitness  for  helping  forward  the  cause  of  humanity 


126  THE  NET. 

in  the  future,  fitness  for  living  in  and  finding  our 
joy  in  the  future  which  Christ's  Spirit  is  to 
rule,  we  must  have  if  we  are  to  enter  that  future. 
Get  the  fitness  how  you  may,  it  is  this  you 
must  have.  If  you  can  get  it  by  some  other 
means  than  by  adherence  to  Christ  and  the 
reception  of  His  Spirit,  use  that  means,  but 
this  fitness  you  must  have. 

And  I  think  any  one  who  seriously  accepts 
this  as  the  real  outlook  for  us  men  will  feel  that 
he  cannot  do  better  than  go  to  school  to  Christ, 
that  he  may  acquire  not  only  a  perception  of 
what  this  fitness  is,  but  that  genuine  humility 
and  absorption  in  great  and  eternal  aims  which 
are  its  prime  requisites.  Apart  from  Christ, 
men  may  be  good  handicraftsmen,  they  may  be 
gifted  with  genius  that  delights  and  aids  man- 
kind and  beautifies  life,  they  may  see  clearly 
what  constitutes  civil  prosperity,  in  one  way  or 
other  they  may  materially  help  forward  the 
common  cause  ;  but  if  after  all  they  are  not  in 
sympathy  with  the  purpose  of  the  King  who 
rules  and  heads  the  forward  movement,  if  their 
motives  in  using  their  gifts  are  still  selfish,  it  can 
never  be  said  to  them,  "  Enter  thou  into  the  joy 
of  thy  Lord."  His  joy  is  a  joy  they  are  not 
prepared  to  share,  if  they  have  sought  their  own 
advantage  and  not  with  Him  sacrificed  them- 
selves to  the  common  good.  It  is  impossible 
to  say  who  are  helping  and  who  are  hindering 


THE  NET.  I  2  7 

the  cause  of  Christ ;  and  happily  it  is  not  our 
part  to  judge.  The  aims  and  ideas  which  Christ 
introduced  to  the  minds  of  men  have  so  per- 
meated society  that  no  one  can  grow  up  in  a 
Christian  country  without  coming  more  or  less 
in  contact  with  them.  And  the  Spirit  of  Christ 
may  have  wrought  in  men  in  ways  we  are  quite 
unable  to  trace.  But  it  would  seem  as  if  only 
through  Christ  it  were  possible  for  us  to  come 
into  that  full  sympathy  at  once  with  God  and 
with  men,  which  we  see  so  clearly  in  His  life 
and  death,  and  which  also  is  our  salvation  from 
selfish  isolation  and  all  ungodliness  and  in- 
humanity. It  is  serviceableness  which  is  to 
determine  our  entrance  into  or  exclusion  from 
the  future  of  God ;  or,  as  God  does  not  desire 
service  in  which  is  no  spirit  of  fellowship,  but 
rather  the  intelligent  and  delighted  co-operation 
of  sons,  it  is  sonship  that  determines  our  des- 
tiny. And  who  but  Christ  enables  us  to  see 
what  sonship  is  and  to  become  sons  .''  How  is 
that  tender,  humble,  sin-fearing,  reverent  spirit 
of  God's  children  to  be  produced,  how  has  it 
ever  been  produced,  save  by  the  acceptance  of 
Christ  as  God  the  Son  dying  for  our  sin  to  bring 
us  to  the  Father  .'' 


I  ^ 


VII. 

THE  UNMERCIFUL  SERVANT  ORTHE 
UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR. 


"  Therefore  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven  likened  nnto  a  certain 
king,  nvhich  ivould  take  acconnt  of  his  sej-vatits.  And  when  he 
had  begun  to  reckon,  one  loas  brought  unto  him,  which  owed  him 
ten  thousand  talents.  But  foras))iuch  as  he  had  not  to  pay,  his 
lord  conitnanded  him  to  be  sold,  and  his  wife,  and  children,  and 
all  that  he  had,  and pay?nent  to  be  made.  The  servant  therefore 
fell  down,  and  worshipped  him,  saying.  Lord,  have  patience 
2uith  me,  and  I  will  pay  thee  all.  Then  the  lord  of  that  servant 
was  moved  with  compassion,  and  loosed  him,  and  forgave  him 
the  debt.  But  the  same  servant  went  out,  and  found  one  of  his 
felloivservants,  which  oived  hint  an  hundred  pence:  and  he  laid 
hands  on  hitn,  and  took  hi/n  by  the  throat,  saying,  Pay  me  that 
thou  owest.  And  his  fello^vservant  fell  down  at  his  feet,  and 
besought  him,  saying,  Have  patience  with  me,  and  I  will  pay 
thee  all.  And  he  would  not :  but  went  and  cast  him  into  prison, 
till  he  should  pay  the  debt.  So  when  his  fellow  servants  saw  zuhat 
was  done,  they  were  very  sorry,  and  came  and  told  unto  their 
lord  all  that  was  done.  Then  his  lord,  after  that  he  had  called 
him,  said  unto  him,  0  thou  wicked  servant,  I  forgave  thee  all 
that  debt,  because  thou  desiredst  ?ne :  shouldest  not  thou  also  have 
had  compassion  on  thy  fellowsei-vant,  even  as  I  had  pity  on  thee? 
And  his  lord  was  wroth,  and  dclivei-ed  him  to  the  tormentors, 
till  he  should  pay  all  that  luas  due  unto  him.  So  likeivise  shall 
my  heavenly  Father  do  also  unto  you,  if  ye  from  your  hearts 
forgive  not  every  one  his  brother  their  trespasses." — Matt,  xviii. 
23-35- 


THE    UNMERCIFUL   SERVANT; 

OR, 

THE   UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR. 

Matt,  xviii.  23-35. 

The  occasion  of  this  parable  was  a  question 
put  by  Peter.  Our  Lord  has  once  again  been 
warning  His  disciples  against  that  self-sufficient 
spirit  which  makes  men  quarrelsome  and  im- 
placable and  censorious.  Their  ambitious  tem- 
per had  been  again  showing  itself  in  the  discus- 
sion of  their  favourite  topic :  "  Who  is  the 
greatest  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ? "  They 
had  been  betraying  their  eagerness  to  be  influen- 
tial and  important  persons,  their  proneness 
therefore  to  despise  the  uninfluential  and  to  treat 
with  harshness  the  "little  ones"  of  the  kingdom, 
those  who  were  weak  and  erring  and  always 
needing  forgiveness.  Our  Lord  therefore  warns 
them  that  the  little  ones  rather  than  the  great 
ones  are  His  care,  and  that  provision  is  made 
in  His  kingdom  not  for  those  who  need  no  for- 
giveness, not  for  those  who  can  see  only  the 
faults  and  weaknesses  of  others,  but  for  those 
who  make  constant  demands  on  mercy. 

But  Peter,  when    he   hears  the  precept  that 
he   must  gain  his   brother    by   forgiving   him 


12,2  THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR. 

his  trespass,  foresees  the  very  probable  result, 
that  his  brother  thus  forgiven  will  repeat  his 
offence,  and  puts  therefore  the  question  whether 
some  different  treatment  ought  not  then  to  be 
adopted.  "  How  often,"  he  says,  "  shall  I  for- 
give my  brother  ?  "  He  knew  the  Jewish  rule  : 
Forgive  a  first  offence,  forgive  a  second,  a 
third — punish  the  fourth.  And  he  seems  to 
wish  to  meet  'at  once  the  most  liberal  senti- 
ments of  his  Master  in  expanding  this  com- 
mon law  to  more  than  double  its  original 
measure  :  "Shall  I  forgive  him  till  seven  times.''" 
But  this  question  was  framed  in  the  very  spirit 
of  the  old  law  of  retaliation.  By  proposing 
any  limit  whatever  to  forgiveness,  Peter  showed 
that  he  still  considered  that  to  forgive  was 
the  exceptional  thing,/ was  to  forego  a  right 
which  must  some  time  be  reassumed,  was  not 
an  eternal  law  of  the  kingdom  but  only  a 
tentative  measure  which  at  any  moment  may 
be  revoked ;  that  underneath  the  forgiveness 
we  extend  to  an  erring  brother  there  lies  a  right 
to  revenge  which  we  may  at  any  time  assert. 
This  feeling  wherever  it  exists  shows  that  we 
are  living  with  retaliation  for  the  law,  forgiveness 
for  the  exception.  But  Christ's  law  is,  that 
forgiveness  shall  be  unlimited  :  "  I  say  not  unto 
seven  times,  but  until  seventy  times  seven  " — 
that  is  to  say,  an  untold  number  of  times.  Seven 
was  with  the  Jews  the  number  of  perfection. 


THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR.  I  33 

When  time  has  run  through  seven  days,  it  be- 
gins again  ;  the  circle  is  complete.  So  that  no 
expression  could  more  forcibly  convey  the  im- 
pression of  endless,  ever-renewed,  eternal  itera- 
tion than  "  seventy  times  seven." 

The  parable  is  added  to  illustrate  the  hateful- 
ness  of  an  unforgiving  spirit.  In  it  the  Lord 
gibbets  the  implacable  temper  of  the  man  who 
refuses  to  extend  to  others  the  forgiveness  he 
himself  needs.  His  own  debt  of  something  like 
two  millions  sterling  indicates  that  he  occupied 
a  position  of  trust,  and  had  exceptional  oppor- 
tunity of  advancing  his  Lord's  interests.  And 
probably  the  magnitude  of  the  debt  was  in- 
tended not  merely  to  suggest  the  vastness  of  the 
liabilities  of  all  men  to  God,  but  also  to  hint  to 
the  Apostles  that  men  so  closely  allied  to  their 
Lord  as  they  were,  might  possibly  incur  a  greater 
debt  than  those  in  an  inferior  position  had 
opportunity  of  incurring. 

It  may  seem  as  if  there  Avere  some  inconsis- 
tency between  the  two  parts  of  our  Lord's  direc- 
tions regarding  the  treatment  of  an  offending 
brother.  In  the  parable  and  in  His  direct 
answer  to  Peter's  question  He  speaks  as  if  the 
sole  duty  of  an  injured  person  were  to  forgive. 
In  the  preceding  verses  He  speaks  as  if  much 
more  were  needful,  and  indeed  He  lays  down 
the  principles  which  have  ever  since  governed, 
theoretically  at  least,  ecclesiastical  prosecutions. 


134  THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR. 

An  injured  person  is  not  to  act  as  a  strong 
healthy  minded,  good-natured  man  is  very  apt 
to  act.  He  is  not  to  say  to  himself,  "  What  does 
it  matter  that  so-and-so  has  called  me  '  cheat ' 
or  '  liar  ; '  my  character  will  outlive  his  attacks  ; 
what  harm  has  he  done  save  to  himself  by 
circulating  slanders  about  me,  or  by  taking  me 
in  to  the  extent  of  a  few  pounds  .-*  I  am  not 
going  to  dirty  my  hands  or  bother  my  head 
about  such  a  poor  creature."  No  doubt  there 
are  slight  injuries  of  which  this  is  the  proper 
treatment.  To  notice  them  at  all  would  be  to 
make  them  of  more  importance  than  is  wise. 
But  this  may  be  carried  too  far  ;  and  it  is  fre- 
quently carried  too  far  by  the  easy-going, 
pleasant-tempered  men  who  are  so  agreeable  an 
element  in  society.  There  are,  says  our  Lord, 
offences  of  which  the  proper  treatment  is  to  go 
to  the  offending  party  and  remonstrate  with  him. 
There  are  few  more  disagreeable  duties  in  life, 
but  sometimes  it  is  a  duty.  There  are  matters 
that  come  to  your  knowledge  which  you  cannot 
pass  by — you  feel  that  if  you  do  so,  it  is  because 
of  an  element  of  cowardliness  in  your  nature. 
Duty  requires  you  to  go  to  the  offending  party 
and  endeavour  to  bring  him  to  repentance. 

But  this  treatment  and  all  that  follows  it  is 

,  in  strict  harmony  with  the  injunction  to  forgive, 

for  you  are  never  required  to  forgive  an  impeni- 

i  tent  person  :  but  you  are  required — and  this  is,  I 


THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR.  I  35 

think,  a  duty  more  difficult  and  more  frequently 
neglected  than  even  the  duty  of  forgiveness — 
you  are  required  to  do  all  you  can  to  bring  to  re- 
pentance the  person  who  has  injured  you.  To 
forgive  the  man  who  has  wronged  you,  when 
he  comes  humbling  himself,  admitting  he  was 
wrong  and  heartily  begging  you  to  forgive  him, 
in  most  actual  cases  makes  no  great  call  on 
Christian  charity :  but  to  go  affectionately  and 
without  a  spark  of  vindictive  feeling  to  the  man 
who  has  done  you  a  wrong,  and  strive  patiently 
to  make  it  as  plain  to  him  as  it  is  to  yourself 
that  he  has  done  wrong,  and  so  to  do  this  as  to 
win  your  brother — this  seems  to  be  about  the 
highest  reach  of  Christian  virtue  we  are  likely 
to  meet  in  this  present  world. 

There  is  another  initial  difficulty.  Not  only 
do  we  feel  it  almost  impossible  to  forgive  cer- 
tain injuries,  but  some  well-instructed  Christian 
writers  explicitly  maintain  that  there  are  injuries 
which  men  ought  not  to  forgive.*  One  who 
has  done  much  to  elevate  the  tone  of  modern 
literature,  introduces  the  following  lines  in  his 
most  celebrated  drama  : 

*  On  this  point,  see  the  remarkable  chapter  on  Forgiveness, 
in  "Ecce  Homo,"  from  which  the  thought  of  this  paragraph  is 
derived.  The  Author  cites  a  modern  novehst  who  makes  one 
of  his  characters  say  :  "  There  are  some  wrongs  that  no  one 
ought  to  forgive,  and  I  shall  be  a  villain  on  the  day  I  shake 
that  man's  hand." 


12)6  THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR. 

"  Oh  sirs,  look  round  you  lest  you  be  deceived, 
Forgiveness  may  be  spoken  with  the  tongue, 
Forgiveness  may  be  w^ritten  with  the  pen, 
But  think  not  that  the  parchment  and  mouth  pardon 
Will  e'er  eject  old  hatreds  from  the  heart. 
There's  that  betwixt  you  been  men  ne'er  forget 
Till  they  forget  themselves,  till  all's  forgot. 
Till  the  deep  sleep  falls  on  them  in  that  bed 
From  which  no  morrow's  mischief  knocks  them  up." 

It  might  seem  then  as  if  those  who  knew 
human  life  best  agreed  that  there  is  a  limitation 
which  must  be  put  to  forgiveness,  that  there  are 
injuries  which  no  man  can  be  expected  to  for- 
give or  can  forgive,  that  there  are  circum- 
stances in  which  this  rule  of  Christ's  must  be 
set  aside. 

Let  us  test  this  idea  by  a  very  simple  instance. 
Some  of  the  most  thoroughly  Christian  and  wise 
headmasters  have  been  inclined  to  wink  at  fight- 
ing among  their  boys,  taking  care  that  it  does 
not  become  too  frequent  nor  go  any  serious 
length.  And  even  the  most  forgiving  and 
Christlike  of  parents  is  not  altogether  com- 
fortable if  his  boy  comes  home  from  school  and 
tells  him  that  he  was  grossly  insulted  and  struck 
by  a  boy  somewhat  bigger  than  himself,  but  that 
instead  of  defending  himself  he  forgave  the 
offender.  Why  then  is  the  parent  not  quite  com- 
fortable, why  would  most  parents  be  really  more 
gratified  to  hear  that  their  boy  had  fought  a 
bigger  boy,  than  that  when  struck  he  had  turned 


THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR.  I  37 

the  other  cheek  ?  Simply  because  most  parents 
might  have  some  suspicion  that  softness  and 
cowardliness  had  as  much  to  do  with  the  turning 
of  the  other  cheek  as  Christian  feeling.  If  they 
had  unmistakable  proof  of  their  boy's  courage 
and  manliness,  if  they  were  perfectly  sure  that 
fear  was  a  quite  unknown  feeling  to  their  boy, 
they  would  delight  in  his  having  forgiven  inso- 
lence and  ill-treatment.  But  unfortunately  fear 
and  a  craven  spirit  are  so  much  commoner  than 
high  spirit  moderated  by  Christian  temper,  that 
wherever  gross  injuries  are  forgiven,  we  are  apt 
to  ascribe  this  apparently  Christian  conduct  to 
that  spirit  which  is  at  the  very  antipodes  from 
the  spirit  of  Christ.  The  parent  does  not  think 
his  boy  ought  not  to  forgive — nay,  he  is  sure 
that  is  the  highest  and  manliest,  and  to  many 
boys  the  most  difficult  conduct — but  until  he  is 
quite  sure  that  in  a  given  case  the  forgiveness 
has  sprung  not  from  a  sham  magnanimity 
thrown  over  a  sneaking  and  feeble  character, 
he  is  afraid  to  commend  it. 

So  it  is  everywhere.  There  is  no  limitation 
to  forgiveness ;  no  injury  so  gross  that  it  ought 
not  to  be  forgiven.  But  there  are  injuries  so 
gross  that  when  men  forgive  them  they  are  sure 
to  be  suspected  of  doing  so  from  unworthy 
motives.  So  little  is  Christian  feeling  in  its 
highest  reaches  and  manifestations  counted  on, 
so  little   is  it   seen   or   even    understood,  that 


138  THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR. 

when  a  man  forgives  one  who  has  deeply- 
injured  him,  this  forgiveness  is  apt  to  be 
ascribed  to  what  is  mean,  and  not  to  what 
is  Christlike  in  the  injured  party.  But 
wherever,  as  in  the  case  of  our  Lord  Him- 
self, there  is  no  question  of  the  power  to 
defeat  or  the  courage  to  face  one's  enemies, 
wherever  forgiveness  can  be  ascribed  only  to 
a  merciful  spirit,  there  men  do  admire  the 
disposition  to  forgive  even  the  greatest  of 
injuries. 

The  parable  is  intended  to  enforce  the  teach- 
ing of  our  Lord  regarding  forgiveness  by  ex- 
hibiting the  unreasonableness  and  meanness 
and  danger  of  an  unforgiving  spirit.  The  hate- 
fulness  of  such  a  spirit  is  emphasized  by  two 
aggravating  features : — 

1.  The  unmerciful  servant  had  himself  re- 
quired forgiveness  and  had  just  been  forgiven. 

2.  The  debt  due  to  him  was  infinitesimally 
small  when  compared  with  the  debt  which  had 
been  remitted  to  him. 

I.  First,  the  man  is  not  softened  by  the  remis- 
sion of  his  own  great  debt.  He  goes  straight 
from  the  presence  of  his  master  who  had  for- 
given him  all  his  talents,  and  lays  violent  hands 
on  one  of  his  associates  who  happened  to  owe 
him  a  few  shillings.  Having  just  been  forgiven, 
he  might  have  been  expected  to  remember,  with 
humble   and   softened    feeling,  that  there  is  a 


THE  UNFORGIVING   DEBTOR.  1  39 

better  law  than  retaliation.  He  thought  mercy 
a  good  thing  so  long  as  he  was  the  object  of  it. 
So  long  as  he  was  in  the  presence  of  a  creditor 
he  had  much  to  say  of  the  calamity  of  debt,  a 
thousand  reasons  to  urge  for  the  exercise  of 
patience,  and  a  thousand  excuses  for  wrong- 
doing. Five  minutes  after,  in  the  presence  of  a 
debtor,  there  is  to  him  no  law  in  the  world,  but 
harsh  and  hasty  exaction  of  dues.  He  is  deaf 
to  the  reasons  which  had  filled  his  own  mouth 
immediately  before,  deaf  to  everything  which 
was  not  a  promise  to  pay,  and  that  instantly. 

This  is  no  over-coloured  picture.  It  is  over- 
coloured  neither  as  a  representation  of  what 
naturally  occurs  in  connection  with  pecuniary 
debts,  nor  as  a  picture  of  the  treatment  which 
sinners  give  to  sinners  like  themselves.  Men 
who  begin  to  use  the  money  which  belongs  to 
others,  and  to  invest  on  their  own  account  funds 
which  either  do  not  exist  at  all  except  in  their 
own  hopes,  or  which  belong  to  others  and  are 
only  passing  through  their  hands,  become 
deadened  with  surprising  rapidity  to  all  sense 
of  the  injury  they  do.  If  they  prove  bankrupt, 
it  is  much  more  their  own  inconvenience  and 
loss  they  bewail  than  the  wrong  done  to  others. 
The  enormous  debtor  of  the  parable  betrayed  no 
sense  of  shame,  no  feeling  for  his  lord's  loss,  but 
only  craven  dread  of  slavery  and  personal  suffer- 
ing. No  serious  humility,  no  honest  and  thought- 


140  THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR. 

ful  facing  of  the  facts,  no  deep  truthfulness  have 
entered  his  spirit.  He  is  ready  to  promise  any- 
thing, if  he  can  only  escape  present  consequences. 

This  is  a  true  picture  of  the  temper  in  which 
we  sometimes  crave  pardon.  Our  iniquities 
overtake  us  with  a  throng  of  painful  and  over- 
whelming consequences,  and  in  terror  we  cry 
for  forgiveness.  But  the  distress  of  our  own 
condition  blinds  us  to  the  wrong  we  have 
done,  and  no  true  humiliation  enters  the  spirit. 
Deadened  by  long  self-indulgence  to  a  sense  of 
everything  but  what  directly  affects  himself 
with  pleasure  or  pain,  the  sinner  has  no  thought 
of  the  deeper  spiritual  relations  of  his  sin.  He 
stupidly  thinks  God  withholds  punishment  be- 
cause he  has  made  a  foolish  purpose  of  paying 
his  dues  by  amending  his  ways.  There  is  no 
deep  contrition  ;  no  conscience-stricken  yet  joy- 
ful recognition  of  the  relation  he  holds  to  God; 
no  intense  delight  and  glorying  in  a  God 
capable  of  passing  by  such  transgressions  as 
his  ;  no  rising  of  the  spirit  to  new  attachments 
and  new  ideas  ;  no  "  truth  in  the  inward  parts," 
but  only  a  desire  to  escape,  as  selfish  and  as  soft 
as  was  the  desire  to  sin. 

But  the  forgiving  love  of  God,  if  it  does  not 
humble,  hardens  us.  To  carry  an  unhumbled, 
self-regarding  spirit  through  such  an  experience 
gives  the  finishing  touch  to  a  dehumanizing 
selfishness.     We  have  a  key  here  to  the  conduct 


THE   UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR.  I4I 

of  those  religious  persons  who  act  as  if  they 
meant  to  make  up  for  their  own  deficiencies  by 
charging  others  with  theirs  ;  as  if  they  supposed 
that  the  violent  and  unrelenting  condemnation 
of  those  who  offend  them  were  the  fittest  exer- 
cise of  their  privilege  as  persons  forgiven  of 
God.  The  little  taste  of  religion  they  have  had 
seems  to  have  soured  their  temper  and  hardened 
their  heart.  They  would  be  more  human 
had  they  no  religion  at  all.  Just  as  this  man 
proposes  to  build  up  his  credit  again  by  scrupu- 
lously exacting  every  farthing  that  others  owe 
him,  so  do  those  who  have  not  been  thoroughly 
humbled  by  God's  forgiveness  show  their  zeal 
in  exposing  and  reproving  the  faults  of  others. 
So  far  from  being  softened  and  enlarged  in 
spirit  by  their  own  experience  of  mercy,  they 
grow  more  punctilious  in  their  exactions,  more 
cruel  and  stiff  in  their  demeanour. 

2.  Second,  the  petty  amount  of  the  debt  he 
exacts  is  set  over  against  the  enormity  of  that 
which  had  been  remitted  to  himself.  You 
might  expect  that  a  man  who  had  been  for- 
given talents  would  have  no  heart  to  exact 
pence.  You  would  suppose  that  one  whose  eye 
had  been  fixed  on  a  kingdom's  revenue  would 
not  know  how  to  count  farthings.  There  is 
something  almost  incredibly  mean  as  well  as 
savage  in  this  man's  quick  remembrance  of  the 
few  pence   due  to  himself,  while  he  so  easily 


142  THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR. 

dismisses  from  his  mind  the  ten  thousand  talents 
due  by  him.  But  our  incredulity  gives  way  as 
we  look  at  the  facts  which  underlie  the  parable, 
and  measure  the  debt  we  owe  to  God  with  the 
peccadilloes  committed  against  ourselves,  and 
which  we  are  so  slow  to  forget. 

What  are  the  offences  which  we  feel  it  im- 
possible to  forgive,  and  which  alienate  us  from 
one  another  .-*  If  other  men  do  not  serve  us 
well  and  fulfil  our  expectations  ;  if  they  do  not 
throw  themselves  heartily  into  our  work  and 
perfectly  accomplish  what  we  entrusted  to  them, 
we  have  no  forgiveness  for  them  ;  they  must  go. 
Or  some  one  has  been  so  presumptuous  as  to 
differ  from  us,  and  has  opposed  the  propagation 
of  our  opinions  on  some  political,  or  theological, 
or  practical  matter.  Or  men  patronise  us,  and 
make  us  feel  insignificant  ;  or  they  tell  some 
damaging  story  about  us ;  or  they  win  the 
prize  that  we  worked  for,  or  succeed  in 
getting  possession  of  a  little  bit  of  property 
we  coveted.  Or  has  even  some  grand  excep- 
tional injury  been  been  done  you  .''  has  your 
whole  life  been  darkened  and  altered  and 
obstructed  by  the  injustice  or  neglect  or  selfish- 
ness of  some  one,  whose  influence  circumstances 
compel  you  to  submit  to.?  Is  there  some  one 
whom  you  cannot  think  of  but  with  a  tumult 
ni  the  blood  and  a  passionate  emotion  .-*  Take 
the  injury  that  is  most  difficult  for  you  to  for- 


THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR.  1 43 

give,  and  measure  it  with  that  for  which  you 
yourself  need  to  ask  forgiveness  of  God,  and 
say  whether  you  ought  to  be  implacable  and 
resolved  on  revenge. 

I  suppose  there  are  few  persons  who  have 
not  often  sat  and  wondered  why  it  is  that  they  feel 
so  little  sense  of  obligation  to  God,  and  so  little 
shame  that  their  sins  are  sins  against  Him.  It' 
is  so  difficult  for  us  to  have  any  genuine  shame 
before  God,  though  so  easy  to  feel  it  before 
men,  that  we  are  sometimes  tempted  to  fancy 
that  a  sense  of  sin  must  after  all  be  a  fictitious 
feeling,  and  not  a  feeling  which  increases  in 
intensity  with  soundness  of  mind  and  clearness 
of  mental  vision.  Several  considerations,  how- 
ever, combine  to  show  that  the  representation 
given  in  the  parable  fairly  apportions  the 
comparative  guilt  of  sinning  against  God  and 
sinning  against  man.  All  our  sins  directly 
or  indirectly  touch  God,  while  only  a  few 
touch  any  individual  on  earth.  In  the  injuries 
done  to  yourself  by  other  men  you  may  be 
able  to  detect  more  malice,  more  intention 
to  wound  and  injure  than  has  entered  into 
any  sin  you  have  committed  against  God. 
But  then,  what  are  the  obligations  which  bind 
any  man  to  your  service  compared  with  the 
obligations  which  bind  you  to  God  ?  For  whom 
have  you  done,  or  for  whom  can  you  do,  any 
portion  of  that  which  God  daily  does  for  you.? 


144     THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR. 

Debt  is  measured  by  obligation.  There  can  be 
no  debt  where  there  has  been  no  obligation. 
We  are  not  equally  bound  to  all.  We  are  not 
bound  to  educate  another  man's  children  as  we 
are  bound  to  educate  our  own.  We  can  have 
no  debt  to  a  shopkeeper  from  whom  we  have 
received  nothing.  And  our  debt  to  God  is 
enormous  because  we  have  received  from  Him 
benefits  deep  as  life  itself,  and  are  bound  to 
Him  in  ways  as  varied  as  the  manifestations  of 
that  life.  We  cannot  sin  against  one  another 
as  we  can  sin  against  God.  Just  as  the  servant 
of  the  parable,  in  dealing  with  his  lord,  had 
intromissions  with  larger  sums  than  he  could 
touch  in  dealing  with  a  fellow-servant,  so  in 
dealing  with  God  we  are  lifted  to  relations 
unique  in  kind  and  of  surpassing  sacredness, 
and  are  involved  in  responsibilities  of  wider  and 
deeper  consequence  than  any  that  would  other- 
wise attach  to  our  life. 

There  ought,  then,  to  be  some  proportion 
between  our  perception  of  the  wrong  done  us 
and  the  wrong  we  do.  If  we  so  keenly  feel 
the  prick  of  a  needle  when  inflicted  on  our- 
selves, we  may  be  expected  to  consider  with 
some  compunction  the  gaping  wounds  we  inflict 
on  another.  Is  our  shame  for  sin  against  God 
as  intense  and  real  as  the  blaze  of  indignation, 
or  is  it  continuous  and  persistent  as  the  slow- 
burning  hate  which  an  injury  done  to  ourselves 


THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR.  1 45 

begets  ?  In  speaking  of  those  who  defraud  or 
injure  us  we  express  our  opinion  of  what  wrong- 
doing deserves.  Is  our  judgment  as  explicit, 
our  feeling  as  strongly  expressed  in  regard  to 
our  own  transgressions  ?  As  strongly  ?  But 
they  ought  to  be  a  thousand  times  more^ 
vehement ;  there  should  be  against  ourselves  \ 
an  indignation  such  as  no  enemy  of  ours  could/ j 
excite  against  himself  though  his  offences  were'.' 
many  times  aggravated.  And  what,  after  all, 
is  our  reputation,  our  happiness,  our  property, 
that  we  should  make  much  wail  about  injury 
done  to  them  ?  Our  good  name  and  our 
advancement  in  the  world  are  no  doubt  much 
to  ourselves,  but  they  are  of  very  little  moment 
indeed  to  the  world  at  large. 

The  fate  of  the  unmerciful  servant  tells  us 
in  the  plainest  language  that  the  mere  cancel- 
ling of  our  guilt  does  not  save  us.  It  tells  us 
that  unless  the  forgiveness  of  God  humbles  us 
and  begets  within  us  a  truly  meek  and  loving 
spirit,  we  cannot  be  owned  as  His  children. 
The  best  assurance  that  we  are  ourselves  | 
forgiven  is  the  consciousness  that  the  very 
spirit  of  the  forgiving  God  is  working  in  our 
own  hearts  towards  others. 

"  'Tis  not  enough  to  weep  my  sins, 
'Tis  but  one  step  to  heaven ; 
When  I  am  kind  to  others,  then 
I  know  myself  forgiven." 

K 


1  46  THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR. 

"  He  that  revengeth  shall  find  vengeance  from 
the  Lord,  and  He  shall  surely  retain  his  sins. 
Forgive  thy  neighbour  the  hurt  that  he  hath 
done  unto  thee,  so  shall  thy  sins  also  be  forgiven 
when  thou  prayest.  A  man  beareth  hatred 
against  another,  and  doth  he  seek  pardon  from 
the  Lord }  He  showeth  no  mercy  to  a  man 
who  is  like  himself:  and  doth  he  ask  forgiveness 
of  his  own  sins?"  (Ecclesiasticus  xxviii.  1-4.) 
"  If  ye  forgive  not  men  their  trespasses  neither 
will  your  heavenly  Father  forgive  your  tres- 
passes." If  you  are  hard,  unrelenting  ;  always 
chiding  ;  slow  to  recognise  merit,  quick  to 
observe  faults  ;  admitting  no  excuse  and 
making  no  allowances  ;  cherishing  ill-will  ;  still 
feeling  resentment  on  account  of  injuries  done 
you  ten  years  ago ;  if  there  are  persons  from 
whom  you  would  if  you  could  exact  the  utter- 
most farthing — then  you  have  reason  to  fear 
for  your  own  forgiveness.  Can  you  humbly 
beseech  God,  and  with  tearful  eyes  look  up  to 
Him  for  pardon  while  you  have  your  foot  upon 
your  brother's  neck  or  your  hand  at  his  throat  .-* 
The  very  fact  that  you  are  proud  and  unbend- 
ing should  itself  convince  you  that  you  have 
never  been  humbled  before  a  forgiving  God. 
The  very  fact  that  you  can  be  overbearing  and 
exacting  should  prompt  you  to  question  most 
seriously  whether  you  have  in  very  truth  let 
your  heart  be  flooded  with  God's  undeserved 


THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR.  1 47 

pardoning  mercy.  The  very  fact  that  in  any 
relation  of  Hfe  you  can  carry  yourself  in  a 
haughty,  imperious,  and  unchastened  manner 
should  bid  you  ask  whether  in  very  truth  you 
are  at  heart  lowly  before  God  as  one  who  day 
by  day  needs  His  forbearance  and  pardon. 
Every  bitter  word  you  speak,  every  unmerciful, 
inconsiderate  act  you  do,  every  relentless,  cruel, 
exacting  thought  you  have,  casts  suspicion  on 
your  Christianity,  and  makes  it  seem  possible 
that  your  Master  may  yet  have  to  mete  to  you 
with  your  own  measure. 

Thus  then  does  the  Lord  lay  down  the  law 
of  unlimited  forgiveness  as  a  law  of  His  king- 
dom. The  kingdom  or  society  He  came  to 
form,  that  new  grouping  and  association  of  men 
which  He  means  to  be  eternal,  cannot  be  held 
together  without  the  observance  of  this  law. 
This  is  one  of  the  essential  laws  of  His  king- 
dom. Men  are  to  be  held  together  and  to 
work  smoothly  together  not  by  external  com- 
pulsion, not  by  a  police  agency,  not  by  a 
criminal  law  of  alarming  severity — it  seems 
ludicrous  to  speak  of  such  forces  in  connection 
with  an  eternal  and  perfect  society — but  it  is  to 
be  held  together  by  the  inward  disposition  of 
each  member  of  it  to  forgive  and  be  on  terms 
of  brotherly  kindness  with  every  other  member. 

We  lose  an  immense  deal  of  the  power  and 
practical  benefit  of  Christ's  teaching  by  refusing 


148  THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR, 

to  look  at  things  from  His  point  of  view,  and 
to  listen  as  cordially  to  what  He  says  of  His 
kingdom  as  to  what  He  says  of  individuals. 
We  are  not  perhaps  too  much  but  we  are  too 
exclusively  taken  up  with  the  saving  of  our  own 
souls.  We  neglect  to  consider  that  the  Bible 
throughout  takes  to  do  with  the  Church  and 
people  of  God,  with  the  kingdom,  and  with  the 
individual  only  as  a  member  of  the  kingdom. 
It  is  not  for  the  individual  alone  that  Christ 
legislates.  He  does  not  point  out  a  path  by 
which  one  man  by  himself  can  attain  to  a 
solitary  bliss  ;  but  He  founds  a  kingdom,  and 
lays  down  as  its  fundamental  law  the  law  of 
love,  a  law  which  shows  us  that  our  individual 
happiness  and  our  individual  perfection  can 
only  be  won  in  fellowship  with  others,  and  by 
truly  entering  into  the  most  enduring  bonds 
with  them.  To  unite  us  again  individually  to 
God,  our  Lord  recognises  as  only  half  His 
work :  to  unite  us  to  one  another  is  as  essential. 
Salvation  consists  not  only  in  our  being  recon- 
ciled to  God,  but  also  in  our  being  reconciled 
to  men.  When  we  attach  ourselves  to  Christ 
we  become  members  of  a  society,  and  can  no 
longer  live  an  isolated  life.  We  must  live  for 
the  body  we  belong  to.  Until  we  catch  this 
esprit  de  corps  we  are  poor  Christians.  The  man 
who  is  content  if  he  is  sure  his  own  soul  is  safe 
has  great  cause  to   believe  it  in  danger ;   for 


THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR.  1 49 

there  is  no  surer  mark  of  a  healthy  Christian 
than  his  practical  acknowledgment  of  the 
claims  of  other  men  and  his  interest  in  the 
kingdom  to  which  he  belongs. 

But  how  are  we  to  attain  to  that  thoroughly- 
healthy  state  of  spirit  to  which  it  shall  be 
natural  to  forgive  until  seventy  times  seven  ? 
This  parable  indicates  that  the  most  important 
step  towards  this  is  taken  when  we  learn  to 
accept  God's  forgiveness  in  a  right  spirit.  The 
true  way  to  a  forgiving  spirit  is  to  be  forgiven, 
to  go  back  again  and  again  to  God,  and  count 
over  our  debt  to  Him.  The  man  who  thinks 
justly  of  his  own  wrong-doing  has  no  heart  to 
make  much  of  the  injuries  done  to  himself. 
He  always  feels  how  much  more  he  has  been 
forgiven  than  he  can  ever  be  called  upon  to 
forgive.  His  soul  gladdened,  softened,  and 
humbled  by  a  sense  of  the  great  compassion 
that  has  remitted  his  great  debt,  loses  all  power 
to  be  harsh  and  damnatory. 

We  must  therefore  begin  with  the  truth  about 
ourselves.  It  is  not  required  of  us  that  we  go 
out  of  our  way  to  make  an  ostentatious  display 
of  our  guilt,  but  it  is  requisite  that  we  let  the 
conviction  of  our  great  debt  so  sink  into  our 
minds  that  we  shall  go  softly  all  the  days  of 
our  life.  It  is  required  of  us  that  we  discover 
and  recognise  the  truth  about  ourselves,  and 
that  we  abide  and  walk  in  the  truth  and  not  in 


150  THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR. 

the  unreal  world  of  our  own  self-satisfied  fancy. 
It  is  required  of  us  that  we  have  a  character, 
and  that  this  character  be  founded  on  and  grow 
up  out  of  God's  forgiving  grace.  We  need  not 
proclaim  to  every  man  we  meet  the  reason,  but 
we  must  let  all  men  see  that  we  have  a  reason 
for  loving-kindness,  for  humility,  for  gravity,  for 
tender  consideration  of  others,  for  every  quality 
that  banishes  hatred  from  earth  and  welds  men 
closer  into  one  community. 


VIII. 
LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD. 

FIRST  LAST  AND  LAST  FIRST. 


"  For  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  like  tinio  a  man  that  is  an 
householder,  which  'vent  out  early  in  the  morning  to  hire  labourers 
into  his  vineyai-d.  And  when  he  had  agreed  with  the  labourers 
for  a  penny  a  day,  he  sent  them  into  his  vineyard.  And  he 
went  out  about  the  third  ho7tr,  and  saw  others  standing  idle  in 
the  market-place,  and  said  unto  them  ;  Go  ye  also  into  the  vine- 
yard, and  whatsoever  is  right  I  will  give  you.  And  they  went 
their  way.  Again  he  %vent  out  about  the  sixth  and  ninth  hotir, 
and  did  likewise.  And  about  the  eleventh  hour  he  went  out,  and 
found  others  staiiding  idle,  and  saith  unto  them.  Why  stand  ye 
here  all  the  day  idle  ?  They  say  unto  him.  Because  710  man  hath 
hired  us.  He  saith  unto  them.  Go  ye  also  into  the  vineyard ; 
and  whatsoever  is  right,  that  shall  ye  receive.  So  when  even 
was  come,  the  lord  of  the  vineyard  saith  unto  his  steward.  Call 
the  labourers,  and  give  them  their  hire,  beginning  from  the  last 
unto  the  first.  And  when  they  came  that  were  Im-ed  about  the 
eleventh  hour,  they  received  every  man  a  penny.  But  when  the 
first  came,  they  supposed  that  they  should  have  received  more; 
and  they  likewise  received  every  man  a  penny.  And  when  they 
had  recdvcd  it,  they  nnirvmred  against  the  goodman  of  the  house, 
saying,  These  last  have  wrought  but  one  hour,  and  thou  hast 
made  the?n  equal  unto  us,  which  have  borne  the  burden  and  heat 
of  the  day.  But  he  ansivered  one  of  them,  and  said.  Friend,  I 
do  thee  no  wrong :  didst  not  thou  agree  with  me  for  a  penny  ? 
Take  that  thine  is,  and  go  thy  way:  I  ivill  give  u7ito  this  last, 
even  as  unto  thee,  Js  it  not  lazifulfor  me  to  do  ivhat  I  will  ivith 
mine  aion?  Is  thine  eye  evil,  because  I  am  good?  So  the  last 
shall  be  first,  and  the  first  last :  for  tnany  be  called,  but  fexu 
chosen."-— MArr,  xx.  1-16. 


LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD. 

FIRST  LAST  AND  LAST  FIRST. 

Matt.  xx.  i-i6. 

The  key  to  this  parable  is  found  in  the  question 
to  which  it  was  the  answer,  and  in  the  circum- 
stances which  suggested  that  question.  A  young 
man  of  high  character  and  still  higher  aspira- 
tions, but  of  unfortunately  great  wealth,  had 
recognised  in  Jesus  a  teacher  who  in  His  own 
person  and  demeanour  bore  evidence  that  He 
understood  how  man  could  attain  to  the  highest 
ideal.  He  accordingly  introduced  himself  to 
our  Lord  as  one  who  was  bent  upon  achieving 
the  highest  human  attainment,  and  who  was 
only  anxious  to  know  what  more  could  be  done 
beyond  what  he  had  already  accomplished. 
But  on  learning  that  for  him  the  path  to  per- 
fection lay  through  the  abandonment  of  his 
great  possessions,  he  felt  that  this  was  more 
than  he  could  do,  and  turned  away  ashamed 
and  wretched.  As  he  passed  out  of  sight,  our 
Lord,  sympathizing  with  the  severity  of  his 
temptation,  turned  to  His  disciples,   and   with 


154    LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD. 

His  usual  form  of  strong  asseveration,  said, 
"  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  that  a  rich  man  shall 
hardly  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

When  Peter  saw  how  keenly  the  Lord  appre- 
ciated the  difficulty  of  giving  up  property  and 
detaching  oneself  from  familiar  comforts  and 
employments,  he  suggested  that  those  who 
overcame  this  difficulty  were  peculiarly  meri- 
torious. "  Behold,"  he  says,  "  we  have  forsaken 
all  and  followed  Thee :  what  shall  we  have 
therefore  ?  "  But  in  asking  this  question  Peter 
betrayed  precisely  that  disposition  which  most 
thoroughly  vitiates  all  service  of  Christ,  the 
disposition  to  bargain,  to  work  for  a  clearly 
defined  reward  and  not  for  the  sake  of  the  work 
itself  and  in  generous  trust  in  the  justice  and 
liberality  of  the  Master.  Peter  had  to  all 
appearance  made,  so  far  as  was  possible  in  his 
circumstances,  the  very  sacrifice  which  the  rich 
young  man  had  declined  to  make  ;  but  if  a 
sacrifice  is  made  merely  for  the  sake  of  winning 
for  oneself  some  greater  gain,  then  it  is  no 
longer  a  sacrifice  but  a  bargain.  Love  and 
trust  are  of  the  essence  of  sacrifice.  Peter  had 
left  his  home,  his  boat  and  fishing  gear,  and  all 
the  pleasant  associations  of  the  lake ;  he  had 
torn  himself  up  by  the  roots;  but  if  he  had  done 
so  not  from  simple  love  of  Christ  which  found 
its  ample  reward  in  His  company,  but  with  a 
clear  understanding  that  he  would  have  a  good 


LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD.  155 

return  in  kind  for  all  he  had  given  up,  then  he 
was  perhaps  premature  in  so  complacently  com- 
paring himself  with  the  rich  young  man.  It  is 
the  motive  which  gives  virtue  to  any  sacrifice  or  | 
service.  The  spirit  which  asks  what  compensa- 
tion is  to  be  made  for  every  sacrifice,  is  self- 
regarding,  mercenary,  greedy,  not  generous, 
trustful,  loving :  it  confounds  two  things  dia- 
metrically different,  bargain  and  sacrifice. 

The  Lord's  answer  to  Peter's  question  is  two- 
fold. He  first  assures  His  followers  that  they 
shall  have  ample  compensation  for  all  present 
loss.  Sharing  with  Him  in  work,  they  shall 
share  in  His  reward.  The  results  He  works  for 
shall  be  theirs  as  well  as  His.  But  having  given 
them  this  assurance.  He  takes  occasion  to  rebuke  X 
the  disposition  to  bargain,  the  somewhat  craven  I 
spirit  that  sought  to  be  quite  sure  it  would  take^ 
no  harm  by  following  Him.  And  He  warns 
them  against  comparing  their  sacrifices  and 
services  with  those  of  other  men,  affirming  that 
many  who,  like  the  apostles,  were  called  at  the 
very  beginning  of  the  Lord's  ministry,  and  were 
first  not  only  in  point  of  time,  but  in  eminence 
of  service,  and  who  might  therefore  seem  sure 
of  a  conspicuous  and  exceptional  reward,  will 
after  all  be  found  no  better  off  than  those  whose 
expectations  have  been  extremely  meagre. 
"  Many  shall  be  last  that  are  first,  and  first  that 
are  last." 


156    LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD. 

It  was  to  illustrate  this  statement  that  the 
parable  of  the  labourers  in  the  vineyard  was 
spoken.  This  is  the  point  of  its  teaching  to 
which  all  else  is  subordinate.  The  nature  of 
the  work  in  the  vineyard  and  its  exhausting 
toil ;  the  unwearied  compassion  of  the  Lord  of 
the  vineyard,  going  out  hour  after  hour  to  invite 
the  unemployed ;  these  and  all  other  details  are 
but  the  feathers  of  the  arrow  helping  it  to  fly 
straight  to  its  mark  ;  but  the  point  is,  that  those 
who  were  first  hired  were  last  paid  and  least 
paid,  and  this  because  the  first-hired  entered  on 
their  work  in  a  bargaining  spirit  and  merely  for 
the  sake  of  winning  a  calculated  and  stipulated 
remuneration,  whereas  the  late-hired  labourers 
did  their  work  in  faith,  not  knowing  what  they 
were  to  get,  but  sure  they  would  not  get  less 
than  they  deserved. 

The  parable,  then,  is  intended  to  show  us  the 
difference  between  work  done  in  a  bargaining 
spirit  and  work  done  in  trust ;  between  the 
reward  given  to  work  which  in  quantity  may  be 
very  great  but  in  motive  is  mercenary,  and  the 
reward  given  to  work  which  in  quantity  may  be 
very  small,  but  in  motive  is  sound.  It  directs 
attention  to  the  fact  that  in  estimating  the 
value  of  work  we  must  take  into  consideration 
not  only  the  amount  done  or  the  time  spent 
upon  itj.but  the  motive  that  has  entered  into  it. 
It  is  this  which  God  chiefly  regards.     One  hour 


LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD.  157 

of  trustful,  humble  service  is  of  greater  value  to 
God  than  a  life-time  of  calculating  industry  and 
self-regarding  zeal.  A  gift  that  is  reckoned  by 
thousands  of  pounds  ;  an  ecclesiastical  endow- 
ment that  makes  a  noise  through  a  whole  gener- 
ation ;  a  busy,  unflagging,  obtrusive  zeal  which 
makes  itself  seen  and  felt  throughout  a  whole 
land,  these  things  make  a  great  impression  upon 
men — and  it  is  well  if  they  do  not  make  a  great 
impression  on  the  parties  themselves  who  do 
them  and  prompt  them  inwardly  to  say,  "  What 
shall  we  have  therefor  " — but  they  make  no  im- 
pression upon  God  unless  animated  by  a  really 
devoted  spirit.  While  men  are  applauding  the 
great  workers  who  ostentatiously  wipe  the  sweat 
from  their  brows  and  pant  so  that  you  can  hear 
them  across  the  whole  field,  God  is  regarding 
an  unnoticed  worker,  who  feels  he  is  doing 
little,  who  is  ashamed  that  any  one  should  see 
his  work,  who  bitterly  regrets  he  can  do  no 
more,  who  could  not  name  a  coin  small  enough 
to  pay  him,  but  who  is  perfectly  sure  that  the 
Master  he  serves  is  well  worth  serving.  It  is 
thus  that  the  first  become  last  and  the  last  first. 

That  we  are  meant  to  see  this  difference  of 
spirit  in  the  labourers  is  obvious  alike  from  the 
terms  of  their  respective  engagements,  from  the 
distribution  of  the  wages,  and  from  the  temper 
shown  by  the  last  paid  men. 

I.  First,  the  parable  is  careful  to  state  that 


158    LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD. 

those  who  were  hired  early  in  the  day  viade  an 
agreement  to  work  for  a  stipulated  sum.  This 
sum  was  the  usual  day's  wage  of  the  period  : 
a  fair  wage,  which  of  itself  was  sufficient  induce- 
ment to  work.  These  men  were  in  a  condition 
to  make  their  own  terms.  They  ruled  the 
market.  At  four  or  five  in  the  morning  the 
labourers  in  a  hiring  market  have  a  keen  sense 
of  their  own  value,  and  are  in  no  mood  to  sell 
themselves  cheap.  The  masters  and  stewards 
have  a  very  hard  time  of  it  as  they  are  hooted 
from  knot  to  knot  of  lusty  fellows  with  the  pride 
of  the  morning  in  their  faces,  and  strive  in  vain 
to  pick  up  labour  at  a  reasonable  figure.  No 
man  in  the  market  at  that  hour  engages  without 
making  his  own  terms,  without  saying  what  So- 
and-so  ofiers,  without  knowing  to  a  halfpenny 
what  he  will  have,  and  striking  hands  w^ith  his 
hirer  as  his  equal.  The  labourer  means  to  make 
a  good  thing  of  it  for  himself;  if  he  does  not 
like  the  look  of  one  steward  he  chooses  another, 
if  he  thinks  one  master's  pay  too  little  he  waits 
for  a  better  offer.  He  is  not  going  to  work  all 
day  to  oblige  some  neighbouring  proprietor,  he 
is  going  to  work  to  make  a  good  wage  for  him- 
self    It's  hot,  hard,  thirsty  work,  but  it  pays. 

But  in  the  evening  the  tables  are  turned. 
The  masters  now  have  it  all  their  own  way.  It's 
no  longer,  "  Will  you  give  us  more  than  So-and- 
so  }  what  will  you  offer  V  but  "  We'll  leave  that 


LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD.         I  59 

to  you,  sir ;  supper  and  a  bed  at  the  most  is  all 
we  can  expect.  There's  scarcely  time  to  get  to 
your  place,  but  we'll  hurry  and  do  our  best,  if 
you'll  have  us  at  all."  Possibly  these  men  wecg__ 
the  proudest  in  the  morning,  and  missed  their 
chance.  Group  after  group  of  men  has  been 
detailed  off  at  various  hours,  and  now  the 
shadows  begin  to  lengthen  ;  their  pride  gives 
place  to  hunger  and  anxious  thoughts  of  the 
coming  night.  They  are  beginning  to  have 
gloomy  thoughts  of  lying  down  in  the  darkness, 
with  no  food  to  refresh  them,  no  roof  to  shelter, 
no  promise  of  more  work  from  an  appreciative 
master,  no  pleasant  talk  and  song  with  their 
comrades  in  the  vintage.  But  as  the  day  wears 
desolately  away,  and  as  now  the  hard  task- 
masters are  heard  on  all  sides  beating  down  the 
wages  of  the  jaded  hirelings,  there  rises  the  con- 
siderate voice  of  this  good  and  upright  house- 
holder, "  Go  ye  also  into  my  vineyard,  and  what- 
soever is  riglit,  that  shall  ye  receive."  In  no 
condition  to  make  a  bargain,  they  most  gladly 
trust  themselves  to  one  whose  words  have  the 
ring  of  truth.  They  go,  glad  to  get  work  on 
any  terms  ;  they  go,  not  knowing  what  they  are 
to  get,  but  quite  sure  they  are  in  good  hands. 
C  They  go  humble,  trusting,  and  grateful ;  the 
others  went  proud,  self-confident,  mercenary. 
>».  2.  Secondly,  the  same  difference  in  the  spirit 
in  which  each  set  of  labourers  had  entered  on 


r 


1 60         LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD. 

their  work  is  implied  in  the  striking  scene  which 
ensued  at  the  close  of  the  day.  Those  who  had 
barely  got  their  work  begun  were  Jirsi  paid,  and 
were  paid  a  full  day's  wage.  There  must,  of 
course,  have  been  a  reason  for  this  ;  it  was  not 
mere  caprice,  but  was  the  result  and  expression 
of  some  just  idea.  It  could  not  be  that  these 
late-hired  labourers  had  done  as  much  in  their 
one  hour  as  the  others  in  twelve  ;  for  the  others, 
those  who  had  worked  the  full  day,  are  con- 
scious of  having  done  their  work  well.  No  hint 
is  given  that  they  were  less  skilful  or  less  zealous 
than  the  late-hired  men.  We  are  thrown  back, 
therefore,  for  the  explanation  on  the  hint  given 
in  the  hiring,  namely,  that  those  who  wrought 
merely  for  the  sake  of  pay  received  the  pay  they 
looked  for,  while  they  who  came  to  the  vineyard 
conscious  that  they  had  wasted  their  day  and 
not  daring  to  stipulate  for  any  definite  wage,  but 
leaving  themselves  confidently  in  the  hands  of  a 
master  they  believed  in,  were  gladdened  by  the 
unmerited  reward  of  the  fullest  wage.  The  men 
who  bargained  were  paid  according  to  their 
bargain  ;  the  men  who  trusted  got  far  more  than 
they  could  have  dared  to  bargain  for. 

The  principle  is  more  easily  understood  be- 
cause we  ourselves  so  commonly  act  upon  it. 
The  man  who  bargains  and  must  have  every- 
thing in  black  and  white,  and  thus  shows  that  in 
working  for  you  it  is  himself  he  is  looking  after 


LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD.  l6l 

and  seeking  to  profit,  gets  every  penny  he  bar- 
gained for,  but  not  a  penny  beyond  ;  whereas 
the  man  who  fears  his  work  may  not  please  you, 
but,  if  you  wish  it,  will  try  and  do  his  best,  and 
says  not  a  word  about  pay — to  this  man  you 
give  as  much  as  you  decently  can,  and  always 
more  than  he  is  expecting.  What  you  relish 
and  reward,  God  also  relishes  and  rewards.  It 
is  work  done  with  some  human  feeling  in  it  that 
you  delight  in.  What  you  give  out  to  be  done 
at  a  certain  rate  you  accept  and  pay  for,  but 
take  no  heed  of  him  who  does  it.  There  is 
nothing  personal  between  you.  He  does  not 
work  for  you,  but  for  his  wage.  His  work  may 
be  most  important  and  thoroughly  well  done,  it 
may  bear  the  mark  of  time  and  toil  upon  it,  but 
it  is  the  work  of  a  hireling  with  whom  you  are 
quits  when  you  pay  him  what  he  contracted  to 
receive. 

3.  Thirdly,  the  same  difference  of  spirit  among 
the  labourers  is  brought  out  in  the  envious  and 
grudging  temper  of  the  first  hired  and  last  paid 
men.  Peter  must  have  felt  himself  gravely  ^ 
rebuked  by  the  picture  here  drawn  of  the  man 
who  had  listened  to  the  first  call  of  Christ,  but 
who,  after  a  full,  honest  day's  work,  was  found 
to  be  possessed  of  a  selfish,  grudging  spirit  that 
filled  him  with  discontent  and  envy.  It  was 
now  plain  that  this  early-hired  labourer  had 
little  interest  in  the  work,  and  that  it  was  no 
L 


I  62  LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD. 

satisfaction  to  him  to  have  been  able  to  do 
twelve  times  as  much  as  the  last-hired  labourer. 
He  had  the  hireling's  spirit,  and  had  been  long- 
ing for  the  shadow  and  counting  his  wages  all 
day  long.  English  sailors  have  been  known  to 
be  filled  with  pity  for  their  comrades  whose 
ships  only  hove  in  sight  in  time  to  see  the 
enemy's  flag  run  down,  or  to  fire  the  last  shot  in 
a  long  day's  engagement.  They  have  so  pitied 
them  for  having  no  share  in  the  excitement  and 
glory  of  the  day  that  they  would  willingly  give 
them  as  a  compensation  their  own  pay  and 
prize-money.  And  the  true  follower  of  Christ, 
who  has  listened  to  the  earliest  call  of  his  Master 
and  has  revelled  in  the  glory  of  serving  Him 
throughout  life,  will  from  the  bottom  of  his 
heart  pity  the  man  who  has  only  late  in  life 
recognised  the  glory  of  the  service,  and  has  had 
barely  time  to  pick  up  his  tools  when  the  dusk 
of  evening  falls  upon  him.  It  is  impossible  that 
a  man  whose  chief  desire  was  to  advance  his 
Master's  work,  should  envy  another  labourer 
who  had  done  much  less  than  himself.  The 
very  fact  that  a  man  envies  another  his  reward 
is  enough  of  itself  to  convict  him  of  self-seeking 
in  his  service. 

The  difference  in  the  spirit  of  the  workers 
which  is  thus  brought  out  in  the  parable  will  be 
found,  says  our  Lord,  in  the  Church,  and  it  will 
be  attended  with  like  results   at   the   time  of 


LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD.    163 

judgment  and  award.  Here  also  "many  that 
are  first  shall  be  last,"  not  all,  but  many;  so 
commonly  will  this  be  exemplified  that  there 
must  be  something  in  the  nature  of  the  case 
inducing  it.  Many  who  have  done  the  largest 
works  shall  receive  the  smallest  reward.  Many 
first  in  man's  esteem  shall  be  last  in  God's  "^ 
reckoning.  Many  who  have  borne  the  burden 
and  heat  of  the  day,  who  have  been  conspicuous 
in  the  work  of  the  church,  whose  names  are 
identified  with  certain  charities  or  philanthropic 
institutions  will  be  rated  below  obscure  indi- 
viduals who  have  almost  no  work  at  all  to 
point  to.  Many  who  have  served  longest  in 
the  Lord's  vineyard  have  a  consciousness  that 
they  are  the  great  workers,  which  likens  them 
to  the  self-complacent  Peter  rather  than  to  the 
humble,  trustful,  self-ignoring  spirit  of  the  late- 
hired  labourers.  So,  many  who  are  most  for- 
ward in  the  work  of  the  Church  and  of  the  world 
are  plainly  animated  by  motives  which  are  not 
above  suspicion,  that  nothing  is  more  obvious 
or  more  commonly  remarked  upon  than  that 
"many  are  called  but  few  chosen.''  Many  make 
trial  of  the  work,  and  labour  vigorously  in  it, 
but  few  have  the  purity  of  motive  which  gives 
them  an  abiding  place,  and  wins  the  approval 
of  Christ.  And  they  especially  are  tempted  to 
faultiness  of  motive  who  are  first  in  work  ;  they 
are   impressed    with   their    own    consequence ; 


164         LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD. 

they  find  it  difficult  to  avoid  inwardly  com- 
paring themselves  with  those  who  waste  their 
day  ;  and  moreover,  many  of  those  who  live 
outwardly  blameless  and  correct  lives,  and  who 
abound  in  practical  work,  do  so  because  they 
are  originally  of  a  calculating  disposition. 

But  though  many  of  the  first,  yet  not  all  of 
them  shall  be  last.  This  also  we  know  to  be 
true.  Some  at  least  of  the  best  known  workers 
in  the  vineyard,  some  who  entered  it  early  and 
never  left  it  for  an  hour,  some  who  scarcely 
once  straightened  their  backs  from  toil,  and 
dropped  asleep  as  they  came  to  the  end  of  their 
task,  knowing  nothing  but  God's  work  their 
whole  life  through,  have  also  wrought  in  no 
bargaining  spirit,  but  passed  as  humble  a  judg- 
ment on  their  work  as  the  last  and  least  and 
lowest  of  their  fellow-labourers  on  theirs.  It 
is  a  thing  that  recalls  the  mind  from  think- 
ing cynically  and  contemptuously  of  human 
nature  to  find  how  often  the  highest  faculty, 
the  most  conspicuous  and  helpful  gifts  are 
used  with  absolute  humility  and  lowliness,  with 
scarcely  one  conscious  thought  that  great  good 
is  being  done.  Happily  there  are  some  first 
who  shall  remain  first ;  first  at  their  work,  and 
foremost  in  it ;  first  in  the  field  for  amount 
and  quality  of  work  done,  and  yet  first  also 
in  reward,  because  first  in  unaffected  forgetful- 
ness   of  self  and    pure   devotedness    to    their 


LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD.    I  65 

Master's  interests,  and  to  the  work  itself.  As  it 
is  often  the  man  who  is  first  in  the  breach  who 
least  understands  why  men  should  praise  him 
for  courage,  he  himself  having  had  no  thought 
of  danger ;  as  the  charitable  man  who  has 
helped  countless  miserable  creatures  and  made 
sacrifices  which  could  not  be  hid,  is  distressed 
when  his  friends  speak  of  making  public  recog- 
nition of  his  charity,  so  some  who  have  most 
materially  advanced  the  cause  of  Christ  and  of 
humanity  are  precisely  those  who  think  most 
shamefacedly  of  what  they  have  done,  and  are 
unfeignedly  astonished  to  hear  they  have  been 
of  any  service,  and  cannot  once  connect  the  idea 
of  reward  with  any  toil  they  have  undergone. 

Again,  as  there  are  some  first  who  remain 
first,  so  there  are  some  last  who  remain  last. 
Not  all  who  enter  the  vineyard  late  enter  it 
humbled.  Not  all  who  do  little  do  it  well. 
Mercenariness  is  not  confined  to  those  who 
have  some  small  excuse  for  it.  Even  those 
who  have  wasted  their  life,  and  bring  but  the 
wreck  of  it  into  the  kingdom,  are  sometimes 
possessed  with  a  complacency  and  shameless- 
ness  that  are  astonishing  to  those  who  know  their 
past  history.  To  come  to  Christ  late,  and  to 
come  unhumbled,  is  the  culminating  exhibition 
of  human  complacency.  To  bring  to  the  vine- 
yard neither  strength  to  labour  nor  purity  of 
motive  is  the  extreme  of  unprofitableness. 


1 66  LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD. 

This  parable,  rightly  read,  gives  no  encourage- 
ment to  late  entrance  into  the  Lord's  service. 
To  think  of  this  service  as  that  which  we  can 
add  at  any  convenient  time  to  the  other  work 
of  life  is  to  mistake  it  altogether.  The  service 
of  Christ  should  cover  the  whole  of  life  ;  and 
what  is  not  done  as  a  part  of  His  work  may  in 
some  respects  as  well  not  be  done  at  all.  ^Xi 
outside  His  vineyard  is  idleness.  You  may  be 
busily,  painfully  engrossed  in  worldly  business, 
and  yet  absolutely  idle  as  to  what  conscience 
persistently  reminds  you  is  the  one  thing  need- 
ful. Your  life  may  be  far  through,  as  years  go, 
but  the  main  business  of  it  not  yet  begun  ; 
your  prospects  always  improving,  yourselves  no 
better  than  when  you  began.  If  there  are  those 
among  you  who  feel  this  painfully  enough,  who 
keenly  feel  the  vanity  of  life,  who  have  tasted 
its  distresses  and  disappointments,  who  know 
how  little  it  all  comes  to,  a  few  pleasures,  a  few 
excitements,  one  or  two  great  changes,  a  great 
deal  of  dull  labour,  and  a  good  many  sorrows, 
and  then  the  plunge  into  oblivion ;  if  there  are 
those  who  would  welcome  anything  that  would 
put  a  heart  and  a  purpose  into  the  whole,  and 
lift  every  part  of  life  up  out  of  the  low  and 
despicable  rut  in  which  it  for  the  most  part 
moves,  then  why  do  you  hesitate  to  respond 
when  Christ  says,  "  Why  stand  ye  here  all  the 
day  idle .-'    Go  ye  into  My  vineyard,  and  what  is 


LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD.    I  67 

right  ye  shall  receive"?  Do  you .  not  believe 
Him?  Do  you  fancy  that  He  will  suffer  you  to 
spend  yourself  in  what  is  despicable,  and  fruit- 
less, and  disappointing?  Why  waste  your  day? 
Why  waste  another  hour  of  it,  if  there  is  real  work 
to  be  done,  if  there  is  work  of  such  importance 
to  be  done  that  He  Himself  left  heaven  to  do  it, 
if  there  is  work  to  be  done  that  the  world  needs, 
that  men  will  be  the  better  for,  if  there  is  the 
least  opening  for  you  to  put  your  hand  to  what 
will  stand  God's  inspection,  why  go  on  idling 
and  frittering  your  one  precious  life  away  on 
what  you  yourself  despise  and  are  weary  of? 

Let  us  then  examine  ourselves  in  the  light  of 
this  parable.  Our  Lord  pointedly  invites  us  to 
work  for  Him,  to  live  for  Him,  and  to  do  so  in 
the  assurance  that  whatsoever  is  right  He  will 
give.  These  labourers  who  went  in  faith  got 
more  than  the  men  who  had  made  what  they 
considered  a  good  bargain.  In  other  words,  you 
are  as  sure  to  be  rewarded  for  every  hour  you 
spend  in  Christ's  service  as  if  you  had  His 
written  bond  and  had  made  your  own  terms.  If 
you  had  considered  what  you  would  like  in  re- 
turn for  anything  you  do  for  Him,  and  if  you 
had  stipulated  for  this,  you  would  not  thus  have 
so  much  as  you  are  sure  to  have  by  simply  leav- 
ing it  to  Him.  We  need  not  concern  ourselves 
about  the  future  :  we  need  not  be  mentally 
counting  our  wages  ;  He  would  have  us  fall  in 


I  68    LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD. 

love  with  the  service,  so  that  even  though  there 
were  to  be  no  reward  at  all,  we  should  still 
choose  it  as  the  most  honourable,  the  most 
useful,  the  most  joyful  way  of  spending  our  life, 
indeed  as  the  one  service  which  is  perfect  free- 
dom, and  satisfies  our  idea  of  what  life  should 
be.  The  slow,  hesitating,  suspicious  person  that 
thinks  Christ  wants  to  use  him  for  some  ends 
that  are  not  the  proper  ends  of  human  life,  the 
foolish  person  that  always  feels  as  if  Christ  did 
not  understand  what  it  is  that  gives  the  truest 
relish  to  human  life — such  persons  are  not  the 
labourers  He  desires.  The  bargaining  spirit 
gets  what  it  bargains  for,  but  also  gets  His  re- 
buke :  the  spirit  that  is  too  broken  to  bargain,  too 
crushed  and  self-diffident  to  make  terms,  but  can 
only  go  and  work  and  trust,  gets  a  reward  that 
carries  in  it  the  hearty  approval  and  encourage- 
ment of  the  Lord.  Are  you  then  in  His  vineyard 
at  all,  or  are  you  still  among  the  unhappy  ones 
who  cannot  decide,  or  among  those  who  have 
looked  at  the  vineyard  in  the  distance,  and  have 
fallen  asleep  in  the  market-place  and  are  dream- 
ing they  are  in  it .-'  or  are  you  among  those 
who  eagerly  watch  for  the  reappearance  of  the 
Master,  and  as  soon  as  He  turns  the  corner  of 
the  street  offer  themselves  to  Him .-'  He  calls 
you  now  ;  He  calls  you  every  hour  of  the  day. 
And  if  already  in  His  service,  are  we  among 
those  who  wish  to  know  what^they  are  to  get  or 


LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD.  I  69 

make  by  it  ?  or  do  we  leave  all  that  to  Him  and 
enter  His  work  because  we  are  weary  of  idle- 
ness and  sick  at  heart  with  hope  deferred,  or 
sore  with  the  ill-usage  we  have  received  from 
other  masters  ? 

None  of  us,  surely,  dare  push  this  parable 
aside  and  pass  on  into  life  without  satisfying  our 
conscience  about  this  matter.  Many  of  us  are 
called.  Many  of  us  are  in  the  vineyard,  and 
have  long  been  in  it.  We  have  borne,  in  a  mild 
fashion,  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day.  We 
have  given  money ;  we  have  spent  a  great  deal 
of  time ;  we  have  performed  a  number  of 
worrying  duties.  And  we  mean  to  go  on. 
Well,  in  what  spirit  have  we  laboured  .-*  Has  it 
been  to  earn  or  maintain  a  reputation,  or  tol 
make  our  influence  felt  ?  Has  it  been  under  al 
dim  impression  that  such  works  and  sacrifices* 
are  necessary  in  those  who  claim  to  be  Chris- 
tians .-'  Have  you  rendered  them  as  a  kind  of 
payment  to  enable  you  to  maintain  the  feeling 
that  you  are  Christ's  people  .-'  Have  you  striven 
to  help  others  mainly  for  the  sake  of  doing  your- 
self good,  of  helping  out  your  own  salvation, 
and  keeping  your  own  hands  clean  ?  Has  your 
object  been  advantage  to  yourself,  either  future 
or  present,  spiritual  or  worldly  ?  If  so,  you  will 
have  your  penny,  but  the  cordial  approval  of 
your  master  goes  to  others.  You  may  say.  Is 
it  not  right  to  aim  at  our  own  salvation,  and  do 


1  70         LABOURERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD. 

those  good  works  which  are  needful  for  that 
purpose  ?  Certainly  it  is  right  to  save  yourself, 
but  it  is  better  to  save  ten  other  people.  It  is 
he  who  loses  sight  of  his  own  interests  and  for- 
gets himself  because  he  is  so  much  taken  up 
with  the  common  work  and  the  common  good 
that  finds  he  has  won  the  highest  reward. 

Look,  then,  to  your  motives.  See  that  it  be 
[pure  love  of  the  work  and  love  of  the  Master 
'  that  draw  you  to  it.  Actions  are  always  within 
our  own  power.  Hard  work  is  always  possible, 
and  great  sacrifices  almost  any  man  can  make. 
It  is  the  motive  that  is  unattainable  save  by 
those  whom  Christ  Himself  has  renewed. 


IX. 
THE    TWO    SONS. 


^'  But  what  think  ye?  A  certain  man  had  two  sons;  and  he 
came  to  the  first,  and  said,  Son,  go  tvork  to  day  in  jny  vineyard. 
He  anszvered  and  said,  I  will  not :  but  afterward  he  repented, 
and  wettt.  And  he  came  to  the  secotid,  and  said  liketvise.  And 
he  answered  and  said,  I  go,  sir :  and  tvent  not.  Whether  of 
them  twain  did  the  will  of  his  father?  They  say  unto  hi?n. 
The  first.  Jesus  saith  unto  them.  Verily  1  say  unto  you.  That 
the  publicans  and  the  harlots  go  into  the  kingdom  of  God  bcfoi-e 
you.  For  John  came  unto  you  in  the  way  of  righteousness,  and 
ve  believed  him  not :  but  the  publicans  and  the  harlots  believed 
him:  and  ye,  when  ye  had  seen  it,  repented  not  a  tenvard,  that 
ye  might  believe  himr — Matt.  xxi.  28-32. 


THE  TWO  SONS. 
Matt.  xxi.  28-32. 

The  three  parables  of  which  this  is  the  first  were 
spoken  at  one  time,  and  that  the  most  critical 
of  our  Lord's  life.  He  had  come  to  Jerusalem 
knowing  the  danger  of  doing  so,  but  also  per- 
suaded that  it  was  now  high  time  to  bring 
matters  to  an  issue.  He  saw  that  things  were 
now  ripe  for  a  public  manifestation  of  Himself 
as  the  Christ.  A  career  of  obscure  philan- 
thropy in  Galilee  could  no  longer  be  pursued. 
The  time  was  past  for  His  laying  His  hand  on 
the  mouth  of  those  who  would  have  published 
His  majesty  and  proclaimed  their  conviction 
that  He  was  the  Son  of  God,  He  goes  to 
Jerusalem,  that  in  the  temple  itself  and  before 
the  chief  priests  and  constituted  authorities,  He 
may  again  proclaim  His  own  dignity,  and  be 
explicitly  and  finally  received  or  rejected. 
Accordingly  He  makes  it  impossible  for  the 
authorities  any  longer  to  overlook  His  actions. 
They  are  compelled  by  the  growing  excitement 
of  the  people  to  appoint  a  deputation  of  their 
best  men  to  wait  upon  Him.     This  deputation 


1  74  THE  TWO  SONS. 

challenge  His  right  to  teach  in  this  unlicensed 
way,  and  put  to  Him  the  testing  question,  "  By 
what  authority  doest  thou  these  things,"  no 
doubt  with  the  expectation  that  He  would  claim 
Divine  authority,  and  so  give  them  a  handle 
against  Him.  But  our  Lord  declines  to  give 
any  account  of  His  authority  further  than  what 
was  manifest  in  His  words  and  deeds  themselves. 
If  they  could  not  see  divine  authority  in  the 
things  themselves,  if  they  did  not  feel  that  in 
His  presence  they  were  in  the  presence  of  God, 
they  were  not  likely  to  see  or  to  feel  the  Divine 
presence  merely  because  He  said  it  was  there. 

It  is  astonishing  with  what  persistency  num- 
bers of  persons  continue  to  make  the  demand  of 
these  priests,  and  put  themselves  in  the  condi- 
tion our  Lord  condemns.  They  will  not  accept 
a  thing  as  Divine  because  it  has  the  attributes 
of  Divinity  attaching  to  it,  but  they  ask  for 
further  evidence.  They  will  not  accept  a  teacher 
as  inspired,  because  of  the  truth  he  utters,  but 
ask  for  an  authority  external  to  himself,  and 
over  and  above  his  teaching,  which  shall  guaran- 
tee it  to  them.  They  will  not  bow  before  Christ 
Himself,  because  their  whole  nature  finds  in 
Him  the  highest  and  best  they  know  ;  but,  like 
these  ignorantly  dishonest  priests,  they  ask  for 
His  authority.  They  ask  for  a  guarantee  out- 
side of  Himself  which  shall  warrant  them  in 
trusting  Him,  as  if  there  could  be  any  possible 


THE  TWO  SONS.  1/5 

guarantee  so  perfect  as  the  actual  moral  supre- 
macy they  feel  Him  to  possess.  That  man's 
faith  is  resting  on  a  very  precarious  foundation 
who  believes  not  because  the  truth  itself  has  laid 
hold  upon  his  conscience,  but  because  he  is 
yielding  to  authority ;  who  accepts  Christ,  not 
because  he  finds  in  Christ  the  true  Lord  of  His 
spirit,  but  because  the  claims  of  Christ  are  estab- 
lished by  what  is  external  to  His  person. 

Jesus,  however,  is  not  content  merely  to  evade 
their  entangling  question.  He  turns  their 
assault  against  themselves,  and  so  leads  the  con- 
versation that  they  are  compelled  to  utter  their 
own  condemnation  in  presence  of  the  multitude. 
The  parable  is  too  plain-spoken  to  be  evaded. 
They  cannot  deny  that  the  satisfactory  Son  is 
not  the  one  who  professes  great  respect  for  His 
father's  authority,  while  he  does  only  what 
pleases  himself,  but  the  one  who  does  his 
father's  bidding,  even  though  he  has  at  first  dis- 
owned His  authority.  They  are  compelled,  that 
is,  to  own  that  a  mere  bowing  to  God's  authority 
and  professing  that  they  attach  great  weight  to 
it  is  of  no  account  in  God's  sight  unless  it  be 
accompanied  by  an  actual  doing  of  the  things 
He  enjoins.  John  came  to  you,  our  Lord  says 
to  the  priests  and  elders,  in  the  way  of  righteous- 
ness, enjoining  the  works  that  belong  to  the 
kingdom  of  God,  setting  clear  before  your  con- 
science the  duties  actually  incumbent  on  you. 


176  THE  TWO  SONS. 

You  felt  he  was  God's  messenger,  the  words  he 
spoke  proved  him  to  be  so ;  the  holy  conduct 
he  enforced  compelled  you  inwardly  to  own 
him  a  messenger  of  God  to  you ;  you  dare  not 
now  in  the  presence  of  these  people  deny  that  he 
was  from  God.  Why  then  did  you  not  do  his 
bidding.!*  He  was  God's  messenger,  he  told 
you  plainly  who  the  Christ  was,  and  yet  you 
believed  him  not.  You  refused  to  work  the 
work  of  God  peculiar  to  your  time  and  office, 
the  work  of  acknowledging  and  believing  in  the 
Son  of  God,  witnessed  by  John  whom  ye  your- 
selves know  to  be  a  true  witness.  You  come 
now  and  ask  Me  for  my  authority  as  if,  were  you 
convinced  it  was  Divine,  you  would  gladly  yield 
to  it;  as  if  you  were  anxious  to  know  God's 
will,  as  if  there  were  on  your  lips  constantly  the 
"  I  go,  sir,"  of  this  Son,  whereas  already  it  has 
been  made  clear  to  your  own  conscience  what 
God  would  have  you  do  regarding  Me,  and  yet 
you  obey  Him  not.  These  publicans  and  harlots 
whom  you  despise  and  loathe  are  in  the  king- 
dom of  God  while  you  are  outside ;  for  bad  as 
they  were  and  daringly  as  they  had  disowned 
God's  authority,  and  little  profession  of  belief 
in  God  as  they  made,  they  yet  repented  when 
John  proclaimed  the  coming  kingdom,  and  have 
believed  in  and  submitted  to  the  King. 

These  men  were  thus  unceremoniously  dealt 
with   by   our   Lord    because   they   were    false. 


THE  TWO  SONS.  I  ']'] 

They  may  not  have  clearly  seen  that  they 
were  false,  but  they  were  so.  They  were  false 
because  they  professed  to  be  anxious  for 
additional  evidence  regarding  Christ,  while 
already  they  had  sufficient  evidence.  They 
were  resisting  the  light  already  shed  into  their 
conscience,  and  yet  professed  a  desire  for  further 
light.  And  probably  in  no  age  of  the  world's 
history  have  there  been  so  many  in  their  state 
of  mind  as  in  our  own.  There  is  a  very  general 
misapprehension  as  to  the  amount  and  kind  of 
evidence  that  may  reasonably  be  demanded  in 
favour  of  Christ's  claims,  and  also  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  the  evidence  may  be  expected 
to  find  entrance  into  the  mind  and  produce 
conviction.  And  it  is  certain  that  unless  we 
use  the  light  we  have  and  follow  it,  we  are  not 
likely  to  reach  fuller  light.  If  we  are  at  present 
sure  that  at  any  rate  the  moral  teaching  of 
Christ  is  healthy,  let  us  practise  that  teaching  ; 
for,  if  we  do  not,  we  reject  the  aid  which  more 
than  any  other  is  likely  to  bring  us  to  Christ's 
own  point  of  view,  and  to  open  our  sympathies 
with  His  purpose  and  to  enlighten  us  regarding 
His  whole  position. 

The  application  of  the  parable,  then,  to  those 
to  whom  our  Lord  was  speaking  could  not  be 
misunderstood.  The  first  son — the  man  who 
at  first  said  he  would  not  go  but  afterwards 
repented  and  went — was  the  representative  of 
M 


1  78  THE  TWO  SONS. 

the  i^ublicans  and  harlots.  They  had  openly 
asserted  their  unwillingness  to  work  for  God  : 
they  had  made  no  professions  of  obedience, 
they  had  decidedly  turned  their  backs  on  every- 
thing good.  They  had  lived  in  open  sin,  and 
were  not  surprised  that  men  should  denounce 
them  as  hopelessly  corrupt.  The  lad  that 
plainly  told  his  father  he  was  not  going  to  the 
vineyard  but  meant  to  have  a  holiday  with  his 
boon  companions  would  not  have  been  more 
astonished  to  be  called  a  dutiful  and  obedient 
son,  than  these  publicans  and  harlots  would 
have  been  had  any  one  addressed  them  as  good 
and  godly  people.  They  knew  they  were  doing 
wrong  :  they  were  conscious  of  their  wicked- 
ness. But  John's  preaching  went  to  their 
hearts,  because  he  assured  them  that  even  for 
them  there  was  an  open  gate  into  the  kingdom 
of  God.  They  repented  because  they  were 
assured  that  for  them  there  was  place  for 
repentance  and  a  way  back  to  purity  of 
conscience,  to  holiness  of  life,  to  God. 

The  priests  and  elders,  the  men  who  repre- 
sented all  that  was  respectable  and  religious 
in  the  country,  were  depicted  in  the  second  son 
who  promptly  said  he  would  go  and  work  for 
his  father,  but  did  not  do  so.  This  son  gives 
his  answer  in  the  one  word  "  I,"  as  if  he  meant, 
"  Oh !  you  need  have  no  doubt  about  me.  I 
am  ready.     I  am  at  your  service.     My  brother 


THE  TWO  SONS.  I  79 

is  a  shameless  fellow,  but  as  for  me  you  have 
only  to  command  me."  This  son  takes  it  for 
granted  he  is  the  dutiful  son  ;  he  puts  no  pres- 
sure on  himself  to  secure  obedience ;  he  is 
conscious  of  no  necessity  to  guard  against 
temptations  to  forgctfulness,  to  indolence,  to 
selfishness.  He  takes  for  granted  that  no 
deficiency  will  be  found  in  him,  and  his  com- 
placency is  his  ruin.  We  all  know  this  kind 
of  man :  the  tradesman  to  whom  you  give 
elaborate  instructions,  and  who  assures  you 
he  will  send  you  an  article  precisely  to  your 
mind,  but  actually  sends  you  what  is  quite 
useless  for  your  purposes  ;  the  friend  who  bids 
you  leave  the  matter  to  him,  but  who  has  no 
sooner  turned  the  corner  of  the  street  than  he 
meets  some  one  whose  conversation  puts  you 
and  your  affairs  clean  out  of  his  mind.  If 
promising  had  been  all  that  was  wanted,  no 
community  could  have  been  more  godly  than 
Jerusalem.  These  priests  and  elders  spent 
their  lives  in  professing  to  be  God's  people. 
Their  day  was  filled  with  religious  services. 
They  had  no  secular  business  at  all ;  they  were 
identified  with  religion  ;  their  whole  life  was  a 
proclamation  that  they  were  God's  servants, 
and  a  profession  of  their  willingness  to  obey. 
And  yet  they  failed  to  do  the  one  thing  they 
were  there  to  do.  They  heard  John's  teaching, 
they  knew  it  was  the  voice  of  God,  but  they 


I  80  THE  TWO  SONS. 

refused  to  prepare  their  hearts  and  under- 
standings, as  he  taught  them,  that  they  might 
recognise  Christ.  The  one  thing  that  John 
commanded  them  to  do,  to  prepare  for  and 
receive  the  King,  they  failed  to  do.  Their 
whole  profession  collapsed  like  a  burst  bubble ; 
they  were  proved  to  be  shams,  to  be  dealing  in 
mere  words  with  no  idea  of  realities. 

It  is  natural  to  suppose  that  the  religious 
world  will  in  every  generation  present  similar 
phenomena.  It  requires  no  exceptional  dis- 
cernment to  see  that  in  our  own  day  the 
spiritual  condition  of  these  priests  and  elders 
is  abundantly  reproduced.  There  are  many 
now  whose  life  is  in  great  part  devoted  to 
various  ways  of  declaring  a  willingness  to  serve 
God,  but  whose  life  is  also  marked  by  disobedi- 
ence. If  you  listen  to  what  these  persons  say 
you  would  fancy  they  were  God's  most  industri- 
ous servants  ;  if  you  look  at  what  they  do  you 
find  nothing  done  for  God  at  all,  or  that  their 
own  peculiar  and  chief  duty  is  neglected.  Every 
person,  therefore,  who  is  conscious  that  he 
resembles  this  son  in  professing  a  willingness 
to  do  God's  will,  should  consider  whether  he 
does  not  also  resemble  him  in  leaving  that  will 
undone.  We  seem  to  be  anxious  to  discover 
what  God  would  have  us  do.  We  read  His 
word — we  go  where  we  hear  it  explained  and 
enforced — we  are  rather  proud  of  our  excep- 


THE  TWO  SONS.  l8l 

tional  knowledge  of  its  meaning — we  seem  to 
set  great  value  on  any  hand  that  will  point  out 
the  way,  on  any.  voice  that  will  say  to  us : 
There,  that  is  the  work  for  you. 

But  does  not  this  forwardness  in  hearing  what 
God's  will  is  sometimes  take  the  place  of  our 
doing  it  ?  Do  we  not  sometimes  mistake  our 
zeal  in  hearing  good  counsel  about  spiritual 
things  for  a  zeal  in  God's  service  ?  Is  not  our 
knowledge,  or  our  pious  feeling,  or  our  known 
sympathy  with  religion,  allowed  to  stand  for 
actual  work  done  .''  Are  we  not  sometimes  as 
satisfied  with  ourselves  when  we  have  seen 
clearly  the  reasonableness  and  desirableness  of 
serving  God,  and  when  we  have  felt  some  desire 
to  serve  Him,  as  if  we  had,  in  fact,  made  a  sacri- 
fice in  our  business  for  the  sake  of  righteous- 
ness ?  We  congratulate  ourselves  on  feeling 
well-disposed,  we  complacently  number  our- 
selves among  God's  people,  we  think  with  satis- 
faction of  our  clear  and  moving  views  of  Christ's 
work  ;  and  when  all  these  clear  views  and  pious 
feelings  have  passed  away  without  any  result  in 
the  shape  of  work  done,  we  still  congratulate 
ourselves  on  having  cherished  them.  There  may 
be  some  doubt  about  our  morality,  but  there  can 
be  none  about  our  religion.  Men  may  not  be 
quite  sure  how  far  they  can  trust  us  in  a  busi- 
ness transaction  ;  our  influence  at  home  may  not 
be  of  the  best  kind  ;  but  no  one  can  have  any 


182  THE  TWO  SONS. 

doubt  that  if  the  religious  men  of  the  city  were 
convened  our  name  would  appear  among  the 
invited. 

Let  us  then  deal  honestly  with  ourselves,  and 
wipe  off  the  reproach  of  promising  without 
performing,  and  of  staying  among  the  mere 
preliminaries  of  obedience.  God  has  desired  us 
not  only  to  think  right,  to  cherish  certain  feelings, 
to  maintain  certain  observances,  but/He  has 
enjoined  all  those  things  as  helps  and  incentives 
to  the  doing  of  His  will.  He  has  said  to  each 
of  us,  "  Go,  work."  His  call  comes  to  us  in  this 
form.  If  you  have  any  connection  with  God  at 
all,  He  has  said  to  you,  "Go,  work."  And  it  is 
a  poor  reason,  surely,  to  offer  for  our  not  work- 
ing, that  we  have  seen  most  clearly  the  reasons 
for  working,  and  that  no  one  has  been  more 
ready  to  promise  obedience.  Which  of  you,  being 
a  parent,  would  not  stand  amazed,  if,  when  you 
challenged  your  child  for  not  doing  what  you 
had  told  him,  he  were  to  say  in  excuse,  "  But  I 
promised  to  do  it ;  I  know  that  I  ought  to  have 
done  it."  Would  you  not  fear  that  some  strange 
obliquity  of  moral  vision  had  affected  your  child  ; 
and  would  you  not  fear  lest  a  child  who  could 
offer  so  utterly  unreasonable  an  excuse  might 
fall  into  the  most  flagrant  and  enormous  vices  ? 

The  question,  then,  is,  What  have  you  do7ie  ? 
The  passer-by  who  saw  the  one  son  stripped 
and  hard  at  work   under  the  sun    among   the 


THE  TWO  SONS.  183 

vines,  while  the  other  lounged  simperingly 
on  the  road  telling  people  what  an  admir- 
able man  his  father  was,  and  what  a  pleasure 
it  was  to  work  for  him,  and  how  much  he 
hoped  the  vintage  would  be  abundant — I  say, 
the  passer-by  would  have  not  the  slightest  diffi- 
culty in  forming  a  judgment  of  the  two  sons. 
Would  he  that  has  noted  your  habits — and  many 
have  noted  your  habits — feel  quite  sure  you 
were  God's  obedient  son  ?  Would  he  think  it 
absurd  to  ask  whether  you  had  said  you  would 
obey,  having  the  far  better  proof  of  an  obedient 
spirit,  that  you  were  actually  obeying  ?  So 
judge  yourself  Do  not  believe  in  your  purpose 
to  serve  God  better  until  you  do  serve  Him 
better.  Give  no  credit  to  yourself  for  anything 
which  is  not  actually  accomphshed.  Do  not  let 
us  be  always  speaking  of  endeavours,  and  hopes, 
and  intentions,  and  struggles,  and  convictions 
of  what  is  right,  but  let  us  at  last  do  God's  will. 
The  other  son  bluntly  refused  at  first  to  go 
and  do  his  father's  bidding.  His  father  had 
addressed  to  him  a  most  reasonable  request,  and 
applied  to  him  an  epithet  much  more  endearing 
than  our  word  "  Son  ;  "  but  he  is  answered  with 
a  harsh,  surly  refusal.  There  is  no  attempt 
made  by  the  son  to  excuse  himself  or  soften  the 
refusal ;  no  mention  of  previous  engagements, 
private  business  of  his  own,  or  necessary  duties 
elsewhere.     He  is  unfeeling  and  wantonly  rude. 


J  84  THE  TWO  SONS. 

as  well  as  disobedient.  He  represents,  there- 
fore, those  who  are  rather  forward  in  their 
repudiation  of  God's  authority.  So  far  from 
desiring  to  be  considered  godly,  they  rather 
affect  a  deeper,  more  resolute  ungodliness  than 
they  feel,  a  more  vicious  wickedness  than  be- 
longs to  them.  They  flaunt  their  opposition  to 
all  that  is  Christian. 

Such  persons  are  frequently  the  subjects  of 
a  peculiar  delusion.  Being  themselves  quite 
honest  and  open  in  their  ungodliness,  they  pro- 
fess and  cultivate  a  special  abhorrence  of  hypo- 
crisy. No  character  is  so  contemptible  in  their 
eyes  as  that  which  pretends  to  grace,  and  thus 
loses  the  pleasure  both  of  sin  and  of  holiness  ; 
and  amidst  all  their  enjoyments  there  are  few 
greater  than  that  which  proceeds  from  the  un- 
masking of  some  professed  Christian.  They 
seem  to  think  hypocrisy  the  crowning  sin  ; 
and  so  zealously  do  they  cultivate  their  skill  in 
detecting  it  that  they  become  blind  to  every 
other.  Like  well-trained  hounds,  they  know  no 
game  but  what  they  are  trained  to  hunt.  And 
thus  they  actually  glide  into  the  belief  that 
because  they  are  not  hypocrites,  they  are  not  in 
a  dangerous  position.  But  if  a  man  is  going  to 
destruction,  it  is,  after  all,  a  poor  consolation 
that  he  is  doing  so  Avith  his  eyes  open.  Is  it 
not  time  for  a  man  to  bethink  himself,  when  he 
finds  matter  for  self-gratulation  in  the  fact  that 


THE  TWO  SONS.  1 85 

he  does  not  make  the  smallest  profession  of 
serving  God  or  of  seeking  to  be  saved  ?  You 
are  honest  in  refusing  to  assume  a  character  you 
do  not  possess,  but  are  you  wise  to  refuse  the 
real  attainment  of  that  character?  You  are 
honest  in  seeking  to  be  known  for  what  you  are, 
but  are  you  wise  to  be  what  you  are  ?  Could 
you  not  be  equally  honest  were  you  nearer  to 
God  and  liker  Him  ?  It  will  not  stand  you  in 
the  day  when  God  takes  account  of  His  servants 
to  say  that  you  never  professed  to  serve  Him. 

But  the  whole  history  of  this  first  son  is  not 
that  he  refused  to  labour  for  his  father  ;  he 
afterwards  repented  and  went.  Perhaps  the 
hurt  look  of  his  father  had  shot  some  compunc- 
tion into  his  soul.  Perhaps  the  very  roughness 
of  his  own  voice  had  startled  him,  and  suddenly 
revealed  to  him  how  far  he  had  gone  in  sin,  and 
how  fast  his  heart  was  hardening.  Perhaps  the 
weary  gait  of  his  aged  and  unassisted  father,  his 
feeble  efforts  to  accomplish  tasks  that  required 
younger  sinews  than  his,  his  evidently  heart- 
broken and  listless  and  mechanical  way  of 
setting  about  the  work — perhaps  this  smote  the 
young  man's  heart  as  he  lay  sunning  himself  in 
indolence,  and  recalled  old  days  when  he  was 
happy  with  his  father,  and  went  to  carry  the 
tools  he  was  too  young  to  use ;  and  the  old 
feelings  of  filial  affection  rose  again  within  him, 
— he  repented  and  went  to  the  vineyard. 


1 86  THE  TWO  SONS. 

Are  there  none  who  know  that  it  is  time  for 
them  to  follow  this  youth's  example  ;  none  who 
are  conscious  they  have  not  done  their  duty 
towards  God  ;  who  have  made  no  pretence  even 
of  doing  God's  will,  but  have  persistently  shut 
their  eyes  to  His  love,  denied  His  claims,  and 
despised  His  commandment  ?  Do  you  feel  no 
compunction  ?  Are  you  worse  than  even  those 
publicans  and  harlots  who  no  sooner  learned 
there  was  forgiveness  and  a  clean  life  for  them 
than  they  eagerly  sought  God  ?  Do  you  prefer 
a  life  every  hour  of  which  pains  and  grieves 
your  heavenly  Father,  and  a  life  which  in  itself 
is  condemned  by  God  and  man  ;  do  you  prefer 
a  life  which  in  your  sober  moments  you  cannot 
yourself  approve,  and  which  lacks  all  tenderness 
towards  God  and  all  truth  and  purity,  to  a  life 
which  God  Himself  calls  you  to  as  worthy  of 
you  and  as  the  beginning  of  never-ending 
blessedness  ?  Were  it  possible  for  God  to  call 
you  by  name  and  from  His  unseen  dwelling 
this  moment  to  break  silence  and  call  you  to 
work  for  Him,  were  He  to  tell  you  of  His  love 
for  you  and  to  invite  you  to  turn  to  Him,'would 
you  refuse  Him,  could  you  refuse  Him  ?  Does 
He  not  then  summon  you  now  ?  Does  He'not 
do  even  more  than  this  ?  Does  He  not  speak 
within  your  own  heart,  and  cause  you  to  feel  it 
were  well  and  wise  to  meet  with  humble  welcome 
all  His  overtures  ?      Can   you   rest   under   the 


THE  TWO  SONS.  1 87 

Stigma  of  a  hard-heartedness  that  cannot  be 
moved  by  infinite  tenderness  ?  Can  you  rest 
content  to  turn  away  to  your  own  poor  private 
employments  and  ways  while  God  ofifers  you 
that  which  will  make  your  whole  work  and  your 
whole  life  true? 

As  a  whole,  this  parable  shows  us  how  God 
is  served  by  men,  and  shows  us  especially  that 
though  there  are  greater  and  less  degrees  of 
disobedience  and  impenitence,  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  consistent  uniform  obedience.  The 
best  that  God  gets  from  earth  is  the  obedience 
of  repentance.  Men  must  still,  each  for  himself, 
try  their  own  way,  and  only  when  this  is  found 
to  be  quite  foolish  and  hurtful  and  hopeless,  do 
they  try  God's  way.  No  one  can  take  God's 
word  for  it  that  such  and  such  are  the  things  to 

o 

be  done ;  such  and  such  others  to  be  avoided. 
We  must  for  ourselves  know  good  and  evil,  we 
must  be  as  gods  making  choice  between  the 
good  that  sin  brings  and  its  evil,  and  if  then 
God's  judgment  about  sin  tallies  with  our  own, 
we  accept  it.  Such  a  thing  as  simple,  perpetual 
acceptance  of  God's  commands  from  first  to 
last  is  not  to  be  found  ;  and  repentance,  though 
certainly  to  be  rejoiced  over,  is,  after  all,  only 
the  second  best  thing.  Apology,  however 
sincere,  is  at  all  times  a  very  poor  substitute  for 
conduct  that  needs  none.*  And  yet  you  will 
*  So  John  Foster  in  his  "  Lectures." 


155  THE  TWO  SONS. 

often  see  that  a  man  considers  that  a  graceful 
apology,  whether  to  God  or  men,  more  than 
repairs  the  wrong  he  has  done. 

Let  us  then  be  on  our  guard  lest  even  our 
repentance  be  sin,  and  our  humiliation  tainted 
with  pride.  When  we  come  to  God  with 
apology  for  neglect  of  duty,  we  are  often  as 
proud  of  having  insight  enough  to  see  deeply 
into  the  evil  of  our  hearts  as  we  are  humbled 
by  a  sense  of  the  wrong  we  have  done  in 
omitting  whole  years  of  service.  We  seem  to 
be  more  worthy  of  praise  for  discovering  the  sin- 
fulness of  a  past  action  than  of  blame  for  com- 
mitting it.  We  are  secretly  flattered  by  finding 
that  we  are  taking  our  place  among  those  who 
have  a  fine  discernment  of  the  higher  duties  of 
the  Christian  life  and  of  the  secret  and  subtle 
iniquities  of  the  human  heart,  and  when  we 
confess  these,  it  is  with  less  shame  than  com- 
placency. Through  all  our  confession  there  is 
running  a  silent,  "  I  thank  Thee,  Lord,  that  I 
am  not  as  other  men,  who  could  not  confess 
such  sins  as  I  am  confessing,  because  they  are 
still  down  among  the  glaring  and  immoral 
wickednesses,  and  have  not  so  much  as  thought 
of  those  duties  that  I  have  been  striving  after." 
It  is,  no  doubt,  right  to  be  convinced  we  have 
been  wrong,  it  is  right  to  turn  in  to  God's  vine- 
yard, even  though  it  be  after  refusing  to  do  so, 
but  that  complacency  should  mingle  with  our 


THE  TWO  SONS.  189 

repentance  is  surely  a  triumph  of  duplicity.  To 
make  our  very  confession  of  total  unprofitable- 
ness matter  of  self-gratulation  is  surely  the 
extreme  of  even  religious  self-deception. 

But  if  we  carry  anything  at  all  with  us  from 
this  parable,  it  must  be  this:  How  greatly  our 
knowledge  is  in  excess  of  our  action.  Our  Lord 
easily  elicited  from  these  persons  an  unqualified 
condemnation  of  conduct  which  precisely  repre- 
sented their  own.  They  held  in  their  minds 
principles  which,  had  they  only  been  applied  to 
their  own  conduct,  would  have  made  them  very 
different  men.  This  reproach  never  passes  from 
the  world  :  all  of  us  know  more  than  we  prac- 
tise. In  the  best  of  us  there  lies  unused  a  large 
amount  of  instructive,  stimulating,  consolatory 
knowledge.  The  worst  regulated  life,  the  con- 
duct which  is  most  shameful  and  hurtful,  is 
frequently  that  of  a  thoroughly  intelligent 
and  well-instructed  person.  In  the  mind  of 
the  most  careless  among  us  there  is  held  truth 
enough  to  save  the  world,  and  principles  which, 
if  only  applied,  would  form  an  unblemished 
character.  And  which  of  us,  when  we  recount 
and  condemn  the  faults  of  others,  does  not 
show  an  intelligence  and  a  zeal  for  virtue  of 
which  there  is  small  sign  in  some  parts  of  our 
own  life.'' 

The  question  which  this  parable  suggests  is 
not,  what   do  you  know.-*    but,  what   are   you 


igO  THE  TWO  SONS. 

doing?  not,  have  you  acknowledged  the  right- 
eousness of  God's  demands?  have  you  seen  that 
it  is  good  for  you  to  obey?  do  you  own  and 
constantly  profess  that  you  are  His  servants  ? 
but,  have  you  done  what  God  has  given  to  you 
to  do?  God  has  commanded  you  to  love  Him 
with  all  your  heart  and  strength  ;  you  know  you 
ought,  but  have  you  done  it  ?  He  has  told  you 
that  this  especially  is  the  work  of  God,  that  you 
believe  on  Him  whom  he  hath  sent ;  have  you 
done  it  ?  He  calls  you  to  work  for  Him,  to 
consider  what  you  can  do  to  forward  what  is 
good,  to  set  before  you  as  your  aim  in  life  not 
advantageof  any  kind  to  yourself,  but  righteous- 
ness in  yourself  and  in  others.  Do  not  despair 
of  doing  something  useful ;  there  are  ways  in 
which  you  can  be  helpful.  These  publicans  and 
harlots  might  well  have  thought  there  was  no 
room  for  them  to  do  good  in  the  community, 
and  that  their  tastes  were  such  that  they  could 
never  love  purity  and  truth  and  unselfishness. 
You'may  feel  the  same.  You  may  feel  that  if 
you  do^the  external  duty  you  yet  have  no  love 
for  it,  and  you  cannot  bear  to  look  forward  to  a 
life  in  which  at  every  step  you  will  require  to 
put  compulsion  on  yourself  to  do  so.  But  such 
will  not  be  the  case.  Do  the  duty,  and  the 
spirit  will  come.  Obey  God,  and  you  will  learn 
to  love  Him,  Compel  yourself  to  all  duties 
now,  and  soon  you  will  like  the  duties  that  are 


THE  TWO  SONS.  IQI 

now  distasteful.  The  man  that  is  drawn  out  of 
the  water  half-drowned  can  only  be  restored  by- 
artificial  respiration,  but,  if  this  is  persevered  in, 
the  natural  breathing  at  last  begins,  and  the 
functions  of  healthy,  unforced  respiration  super- 
sede the  artificial  means.  And  thus  God 
educates  us  to  ease  and  naturalness  in  all  duty. 
Under  cover  of  the  outward  conduct,  the  new 
spirit  grows  and  grows  to  such  strength  that  at 
last  it  maintains  the  outward  conduct  as  its 
natural  fruit. 


X. 

THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN, 


N 


^^  Hear  another  parable :  There  was  a  certain  householder, 
xvhich  planted  a  vineyard,  and  hedged  it  round  about,  and 
digged  a  winepress  in  it,  and  built  a  tower,  and  let  it  out  to 
husbandmen,  and  went  into  a  far  country :  and  when  the  titne 
of  the  frtiit  drew  near,  he  sent  his  servants  to  the  husbandmen, 
that  they  might  receive  the  fruits  of  it.  And  tlic  husbandmen 
took  his  se7'vants,  and  beat  one,  and  killed  another,  and  stoned 
another.  Again,  he  sent  other  sei'vants  more  than  the  first:  and 
they  did  unto  the?n  likewise.  But  last  of  all  he  sent  unto  them 
his  son,  saying,  They  will  reverence  my  son.  But  when  the 
husbandmen  saw  the  son,  they  said  among  themselves,  This  is 
the  heir ;  come,  let  us  kill  him,  atid  let  us  seize  oti  his  inherit- 
ance. And  they  caught  him,  and  cast  him  out  of  the  vineyard, 
and  slew  him.  When  the  lord  therefore  of  the  vineyard  cotneth, 
zvhat  taill  he  do  unto  those  husband7nen  ?  They  say  unto  him, 
He  tvill  miserably  destroy  those  wicked  men,  and  ivill  let  out  his 
vineyard  unto  other  husbandmen,  which  shall  render  him  the 
fruits  in  their  seasons.  Jesus  saith  unto  them.  Did  ye  never  read 
in  the  scriptures,  7 he  stone  which  the  builders  rejected,  the  same 
is  becotne  the  head  of  the  corner :  this  is  the  Lord's  doing,  and  it 
is  marvellous  in  our  eyes?  Therefore  say  I  unto  you.  The  king- 
dom of  God  shall  be  taken  from  you,  and  given  to  a  nation 
bringing  forth  the  frtcits  thereof.  And  whosoever  shall  fall  on 
tins  stone  shall  be  broken :  but  on  whomsoever  it  shall  fall,  it  will 
grind  him  to  powder.  And  when  the  chief  priests  and  Pharisees 
had  heard  liis  parables,  they  perceived  that  he  spake  of  them." — 
Matt.  xxi.  33-45. 


THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN. 

Matt.  xxi.  33-45. 

"  Hear  another  parable,"  says  our  Lord  to 
these  ecclesiastical  dignitaries  who  were  pro- 
bably feeling  that  they  had  heard  quite  enough 
already.  Their  dignity,  they  felt,  was  sufiering 
in  the  eyes  of  the  mob,  who  could  not  fail  to 
see  that  the  tables  had  been  turned  against 
them,  and  who  rarely  conceal  the  rough  relish 
they  have  in  contemplating  the  discomfiture  of 
pompous  ignorance  and  sanctimonious  arrog- 
ance. If  there  flew  round  the  circle  none  of 
those  jeering  remarks  or  smart  personal  hits 
which  would  inevitably  have  been  elicited  from 
an  English  crowd,  there  would  not  be  wanting 
significant  nods  and  satisfied  smiles  which 
would  show  with  equal  clearness  to  the  priests 
and  elders  that  in  seeking  to  expose  the  pre- 
tensions of  Jesus  they  had  only  exposed  them- 
selves. Their  falseness  in  disguising  their 
reluctance  to  accept  Jesus  as  the  Christ  under 
pretence  of  seeking  further  evidence,  was  with 
a  wonderful  facility  laid  bare  to  all.  They 
stood  convicted  of  refusing  to  accept  the  testi- 


196  THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN. 

mony  of  one  whom  they  dared  not  den}^  to  be 
from  God.  They  stood  convicted  of  having 
incapacitated  themselves  for  recognising  the 
divine  in  Jesus,  But  theirs  is  not  the  guilt  of 
the  common  unbeliever;  it  was  not  merely  their 
personal  duty  and  interest  to  keep  themselves 
awake  to  the  divine  by  righteousness  of  life,  it 
was  their  official  duty  as  well.  It  was  the  duty 
for  which  their  office  existed.  They  must 
therefore  be  shown  up  as  men  who  are  hollow 
shams,  who  are  complacently  maintaining  their 
official  dignity  and  the  routine  and  forms  of 
their  office,  while  they  are  wholly  oblivious  of 
its  one  great  object.  They  are  worse  than 
useless.  They  are  as  agents  whom  a  man  has 
appointed  to  manage  his  business  or  his  pro- 
perty for  him,  and  who  use  their  position  for 
embezzling  the  entire  proceeds,  and  enriching 
themselves  at  his  expense. 

The  parabolic  dress  under  which  this  warning 
or  judgment  is  carried  home  to  them  is  a  very 
thin  veil,  through  which  no  one  could  fail  to 
discern  the  living  truth.  The  liberally  cared- 
for  vineyard,  furnished  with  every  advantage  to 
facilitate  productiveness,  was  of  course  Israel, 
hedged  off  from  the  outlying  and  less  cared  for 
fields  of  heathenism,  and  furnished  with  all  that 
goes  to  fructify  human  nature.  As  God  had 
long  since  declared,  nothing  that  could  be  done 
had  been  left  undone,      As  many  men  will  go 


THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN.  1 97 

to  any  expense  in  improving  their  property, 
tr}-ing  new  methods,  providing  the  best 
implements,  taking  a  pride  in  having  every 
road  and  fence  in  good  repair,  so  everything 
had  been  done  in  Israel  that  could  be  expected 
to  fertilize  human  nature.  A  small  section  of 
humanity  had  been  railed  off,  and  the  experi- 
ment was  made  that  it  might  be  seen  to  what  a 
pitch  of  productiveness  this  most  fruitful  of 
God's  plants  could  be  brought.  A  family  or 
race  of  men  was  chosen  and  set  apart  for  the 
very  purpose  of  receiving  every  advantage 
which  could  help  men  to  produce  the  proper 
fruit  of  man  ;  to  maintain  a  vigorous,  healthy 
life,  and  to  yield  results  which  might  seem  to 
justify  the  care  spent  on  them.  There  was  to 
be  a  nursery  of  virtue,  where  any  one  would 
only  have  to  look  in  order  to  see  what  proper 
cultivation  could  effect.  Here  it  was  to  be 
shown  that  barbarism,  degradation,  violence, 
lust,  and  idolatry  were  not  the  proper  fruit  of 
human  nature.  In  this  garden  man  was  to 
receive  every  possible  aid  and  inducement  to 
development  and  productiveness :  nothing  was 
wanting  which  could  win  men  to  holiness, 
nothing  which  could  enlarge,  purify,  fertilize 
human  nature. 

And  what  was  the  result .''  The  result  was 
that  which  every  reformatory  in  the  country 
gives,  namely,  that  human  nature  in  the  abstract 


198  THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN. 

is  one  thing  ;  in  the  concrete,  in  the  individual, 
another  ;  that  as  some  soils  simply  absorb  all 
that  you  can  put  into  them  and  give  no  sign, 
so  do  most  men  simply  absorb  all  manner  of 
inducements,  counsels,  warnings,  aids,  and  bring 
forth  nothing  serviceable  to  God  or  man.  Even 
persons  professing  religion  are  quite  contented, 
nay,  even  think  they  are  making  vast  attain- 
ment and  thriving  magnificently,  when  they  are 
merely  receiving,  and  doing  nothing  or  little. 
They  measure  themselves  by  the  care  God  is 
spending  on  them,  not  by  the  fruit  they  are 
yielding  ;  by  the  amount  of  instruction  they 
have  received  and  retain,  not  by  the  use  they 
have  made  of  it ;  by  the  grace  spent  upon  them, 
and  not  by  the  results.  In  short,  they  make  the 
blunder  which  subverts  the  whole  of  religion, 
of  turning  means  into  ends. 

But  in  this  parable  it  is  not  the  plants  that 
are  censured  for  barrenness,  but  the  keepers  of 
the  vineyard  that  are  condemned  for  unfaithful- 
ness to  the  owner.  The  fruit  borne,  whether 
more  or  less  than  common,  was  intercepted  by 
the  husbandmen.  They  used  their  position 
solely  for  their  own  advantage.  That  is  to  say, 
the  priests  and  elders  of  the  Jews  had  fallen  into 
the  common  snare  of  ecclesiastical  leaders,  and 
had  used  the  dignity  and  advantageous  position 
of  their  office  for  their  own  behoof,  and  had 
failed  to  remember  that  they  had  it  only  as 


THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN.  1 99 

God's  servants.  The  religious  leader  is  quite  as 
liable  as  the  political  or  military  leader  to  be ! 
led  by  a  desire  for  glory,  applause,  notoriety, 
distinction,  power.  And  the  Church  is  quite  as  j 
open  a  field  for  the  exercise  and  manifestation 
of  such  unworthy  motives  as  the  State  is.*  The 
Church,  being  a  society  of  men,  must  be 
managed  by  the  usual  methods,  which  all 
societies  of  men  adopt.  There  must  be  com- 
bination, contrivance,  adjustment,  discussion, 
laws  and  regulations.  The  Church  in  its  out- 
ward system  and  movements  must  be  wrought 
by  the  same  machinery  as  other  large  associa- 
tions use.  And  it  is  notorious  that  the  mere 
working  of  this  machinery  requires  no  spiritual 
faculty  in  the  persons  who  manage  it.  It  calls 
into  exercise  a  certain  class  of  gifts  and  faculties, 
certain  talents  and  qualities  which  are  eminently 
serviceable,  but  which  may  equally  be  exercised 
for  the  State  or  for  the  Church,  for  the  world  or 
for  God.  The  political  leader  who  negotiates 
with  foreign  powers,  who  foresees  calamity  and 
has  skill  to  avert  it,  who  can  control  large  bodies 
of  men  and  keep  vast  organizations  in  noiseless 
motion,  may  exercise  these  great  gifts  either  for 
his  country  and  his  God,  or  merely  for  the  sake 
of  making  or  maintaining  his  reputation  as  the 
most  influential  man  of  his  generation.     And 

*  See  the  late  Canon  Mozley's  Sermon  on  "The  Reversal 
of  Human  Judgment. " 


200  THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN. 

the  ecclesiastic  who  has  very  much  the  same 
kind  of  work  to  do,  feeling  the  pulse  of  the 
theological  and  ecclesiastical  world,  making  out 
through  the  distorting  haze  of  public  report  and 
opinion  what  are  the  facts  of  a  case  and  what  is 
best  to  be  done  in  it,  and  talking  over  to  his 
view  large  bodies  of  men — this  man,  like  the 
politician,  may  be  serving  his  God,  or  he  may  be 
serving  himself  Success  may  be  the  idol  of  the 
one  as  truly  as  of  the  other.  To  have  a  large 
religious  following  and  wide  Influence  in  the 
Church  may  be  as  thoroughly  selfish  and 
worldly  a  desire  as  to  be  at  the  head  of  a  strong 
political  party.  It  is  not  the  sphere  in  which 
one's  work  is  done  that  proves  its  spirituality  or 
worldliness ;  neither  is  it  always  the  nature  of 
the  work  that  is  done,  but  the  motive  that  tests 
whether  it  is  spiritual  or  worldly.  These  priests 
and  elders  had  not  escaped  the  snare  into  which 
their  predecessors  had  fallen,  and  to  which  all 
their  successors  are  exposed.  They  had  used 
their  position  to  attract  applause  to  themselves, 
or  to  make  their  influence  felt  in  the  community, 
or  to  win  for  themselves  a  name  as  defenders  of 
the  faith. 

Another  and  still  more  insidious  form  of  the 
same  temptation  it  may  be  worth  while  to 
notice.  It  is  that  temptation  to  which  our  Lord 
alluded  when  He  censured  this  same  class  of 
persons  for  their  zeal  in  proselytizing.     But  why 


THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN.  20I 

SO  ?  Is  not  zeal  in  propagating  religion  a  good 
thing?  If  these  foremost  men  in  the  Jewish 
Church  compassed  sea  and  land  to  make  one 
proselyte,  is  this  not  that  very  missionary  zeal 
which  the  Jews  are  upbraided  for  wanting,  and 
the  modern  Church  prides  itself  on  possessing  ? 
Is  evangelistic  fervour  in  the  nineteenth  century 
a  thing  to  applaud,  while  the  same  fervour  in  the 
first  is  to  be  condemned  ?  or  what  was  it  in 
these  men's  zeal  that  so  roused  our  Lord's 
indignation  ?  It  was  that  same  element  which 
so  often  still  taints  zeal  for  the  propagation  of 
religious  truth — the  desire  rather  to  bring  men 
over  to  my  way  of  thinking  and  so  to  strengthen 
my  own  position,  than  to  bring  them  to  the 
truth.  My  way  of  thinking  may  be  the  truth, 
or  may,  at  least,  be  much  nearer  it  than  the 
opinions  held  by  others,  and  for  them  it  may  be 
a  good  thing  to  be  brought  over  to  my  views ; 
but  for  myself  it  is  a  bad  thing  and  the  mere 
strengthening  of  a  selfish  craving,  if  I  seek  to 
propagate  my  opinions  rather  because  they  are 
mine  than  because  they  are  the  truth.  And 
how  wide-spreading  and  deep-reaching  an  evil 
this  is,  those  well  know  who  have  observed 
religious  controversy  and  seen  how  dangerously 
near  propagandism  lies  to  persecution.  The 
zeal  that  proceeds  from  a  loving  consideration 
for  others  does  not,  when  resisted,  darken  into 
violence  and  ferocity.     The  mother  seeking  to 


202  THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN. 

persuade  her  son  does  not  become  fierce  when 
opposed,  but  only  increasingly  tender  and  piti- 
fully gentle.  The  zeal  for  truth  that  storms  at 
opposition  and  becomes  bitter  and  fierce  when 
contradicted,  you  may,  therefore,  recognise  as 
springing  from  a  desire  rather  to  have  one's  own 
wisdom  and  one's  own  influence  acknowledged 
than  from  either  deep  love  for  others  or  deep 
regard  for  the  truth  as  the  truth. 

But  to  return — the  implied  and  slightly  dis- 
guised condemnation  of  the  parable  our  Lord 
proceeds  to  enforce  in  an  explicit  form.  The 
truth  which  had  been  sheathed  in  the  parable 
He  thrusts  home  now  with  naked  point.  "  The 
kingdom  of  God  shall  be  taken  from  you  and 
given  to  a  nation  bringing  forth  the  fruits 
thereof"  And  this  warning  is  grounded  not  on 
a  parable,  Avhich  they  might  have  afTected  to 
despise,  but  on  a  passage  of  the  very  Scriptures 
they  professed  to  be  the  guardians  of  There 
had  been  the  warning  before  their  eyes,  read  by 
them,  sung  by  them  at  their  festivals,  carefully 
treasured  in  their  memories  ;  and  yet,  like  us 
all,  they  had  so  little  penetrated  to  its  sense, 
had  so  little  thought  out  its  meaning  and 
possible  application,  had  looked  upon  it  so  much 
as  a  dead  letter  and  so  little  as  alive  for  them 
and  for  all  men,  that  our  Lord  has  yet  to  ask 
them  :  "  Did  ye  never  read  in  the  Scriptures, 
The  stone  which  the  builders  rejected  is  become 


THE  WICKED  EIUSBANDMEN.  203 

the  head  of  the  corner?"  Is  not  this  stone  the 
same  as  the  heir  sent  by  the  lord  of  the  vine- 
yard ?  Are  not  ye  now  in  danger  of  fulfilHng 
the  prophecy  ye  know  so  well  ?  Are  you  not 
about  to  reject  and  cast  contempt  on  one  whom 
in  your  souls  you  know  to  be  worthy  of  far 
other  treatment  ? 

The  careful  reader  of  this  conversation  will  be 
struck  with  two  points  in  it — first,  that  Jesus 
claims  to  be  the  heir  of  God  ;  in  other  words, 
He  deliberately  sets  himself  on  a  wholly 
different  level  from  the  other  prophets — high! 
above  Isaiah,  Elijah,  nay,  even  high  above 
Moses  himself  They  were  all  servants  ;  He  is 
in  quite  a  different  relation  to  the  proprietor,  that 
is,  to  God.  He  is  the  Son  and  Heir;  in  acting 
for  God  He  acts  for  Himself.  It  is  because  the 
vinedressers  identify  Him  with  the  owner  that 
they  have  a  hope  of  gaining  possession  of  the 
vineyard  by  killing  the  heir.  To  kill  a  mere 
servant  would  have  served  no  such  purpose  it 
another  servant  can  always  be  appointed  ;  how-1 
ever  high  his  office  and  title,  another  can  alwaysl 
be  raised,  and  equal  authority  can  be  delegated! 
to  him  ;  but  there  is  no  other  son.  It  is  nature/ 
and  relationship,  not  mere  official  dignity,  thatl 
underlies  this  title  and  that  is  implied  in  the', 
parable. 

But  the  second  point  is  even  more  worthy 
of  remark.      Our  Lord  implies   that   this  was 


204  THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN. 

known  by  these  Jewish  leaders.  Their  con- 
demnation was,  that  knowing  Him  to  be  the 
Son  of  God,  they  slew  Him.  Peter,  indeed, 
apologetically  says  that  they  would  not  have 
slain  Him  had  they  known  He  was  the  Lord  of 
glory.  It  may  have  been  so  in  some  instances; 
and,  no  doubt,  had  they  allowed  the  fact  to 
stand  clear  before  their  minds,  had  they  given 
free  course  to  it  and  weight  to  it,  they  could  not 
have  done  what  they  did.  Still,  as  the  parable 
shows,  it  was  just  because  they  knew  this  was 
the  heir  that  they  were  so  eager  to  remove  Him. 
Their  state  of  mind  is  perfectly  intelligible  and 
very  common.  There  lay  latent  in  them  a  deep 
consciousness  which  they  would  not  allow  to 
become  distinct  and  influential.  They  had  a 
conviction  that  Jesus  was  the  Christ,  but  they 
would  not  let  their  mind  dwell  upon  it.  There 
are  few  of  us  who  have  not  such  buried  convic- 
tions, few  of  us  who  do  not  leave  out  of  sight 
thoughts  which,  if  allowed  influence,  would  urge 
us  to  unwelcome  action.  There  are  thousands 
who  have  a  haunting  suspicion  that  Jesus 
deserves  a  very  difl*erent  kind  of  recognition 
from  that  which  they  give  Him.  Is  there  not 
lying  in  the  mind  of  some  of  you  half-formed 
thoughts  about  Jesus,  possible  if  not  actual  con- 
victions, which  if  you  carefully  thought  them 
out  would  lead  you  to  take  up  a  different  and 
much  more  satisfactory  attitude  towards  Him  } 


THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN.  205 

And  if  there  are  those  who  feel  that  things 
should  be  plainer,  that  the  majesty  of  Christ 
should  be  so  borne  in  upon  the  soul  that  all 
would  yield  to  Him,  this  is  natural ;  but  it  is  to 
overlook  the  fundamental  fact  that  room  must 
be  left  for  freedom  of  choice  and  the  exercise  of 
judgment.  The  fact  is,  that  the  rejection  of 
Christ  by  so  many  is  one  of  the  proofs  that  He 
is  Divine.  It  is  worldly  worth  that  is  acknow-_ 
ledged  by  all,  and  worldly  blessings  that  are 
universally  accepted.  The  higher  the  blessing, 
the  fewer  accept  it.  All  wish  plenty  to  eat,  a 
minority  value  good  education,  a  few  seek  the 
kingdom  of  God.  And  so  our  Lord  here  points 
out  that  it  had  long  been  foreseen  that  when  He 
came  He  would  be  rejected.  In  reply  to  those 
questioners  who  ask  how  He  can  allow  the 
Hosanna  Psalm  to  be  applied  to  Him  by  the 
people.  He  takes  this  very  psalm,  and  out  of  it 
proves  to  the  authorities  that  their  very  resist- 
ance and  rejection  of  Him  is  the  proof  that  He 
is  what  the  crowd  were  affirming  Him  to  be — 
the  Messiah,  the  Son  and  Heir  of  God,  the 
Stone  despised  of  the  builders,  but  chosen  of 
God.  Rejection  by  the  builders  was  one  of  the 
marks  by  which  the  foundation  chosen  by  God 
was  to  be  identified.  Truth  is  often  more  con- 
vincingly exhibited  by  the  opposition  of  a 
certain  class  of  men.  It  is  not  discredited  by 
their  opposition;  but  a primd  fade  point  in  its 


206  THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN. 

favour  is  that  they  do  not  receive  it.  And, 
certainly,  had  the  claims  of  Jesus  been  accepted 
by  these  dried-up  formal  traditionalists  we 
should  have  had  some  cause  for  doubt. 

Abandoning  the  figure  used  in  the  parable, 
our  Lord  makes  use  of  a  new  figure  to  complete 
the  warning.  He  speaks  of  two  possible  con- 
tingencies— "  Whosoever  shall  fall  on  this  stone 
shall  be  broken  " — this  had  been  declared  by 
Isaiah — "  but  on  whomsoever  it  shall  fall,  it  will 
grind  him  to  powder,"  this  figure  had  been 
familiarized  by  Daniel's  use  of  it.  The  stone 
which  lies  ready  hewn  and  suitable  for  the  best 
part  of  a  building  may  inflict  severe  injury  on 
the  builder,  either  by  his  carelessly  stumbling 
upon  it,  falling  from  a  height  upon  it,  and  so 
getting  himself  bruised  and  broken  ;  or  it  may 
fall  from  a  height  upon  him,  in  which  case  it  is 
certain  death. 

The  first  case  is  that  in  which  Christ  is  a 
stone  of  stumbling  to  those  to  whom  He  is  pre- 
sented. God  lays  this  stone  everywhere  in  our 
way  that  we  may  build  upon  it  or  set  it  high  in 
the  place  of  honour,  and  we  cannot  simply  walk 
on  as  if  God  had  done  no  such  thing.  Whatever 
else  Christ  is,  He  is  substantial,  a  reality  as  solid 
as  the  stone  against  which  your  foot  is  jarred. 
To  make  as  if  He  were  not,  and  to  pass  on  un- 
touched and  unchanged,  is  impossible.  If  we 
attempt  to  do  so,  ignoring  that  the  stone  is  there, 


THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN.  207 

we  stumble  and  fall  and  injure  ourselves.  The 
foundation  stone  becomes  a  stone  of  offence. 
Every  one  who  hears  the  gospel,  every  one  in 
whose  path  Christ  is  laid,  is  either  the  better  or 
the  worse  for  it.  The  gospel  once  heard  is 
"henceforward  a  perpetual  element  in  the  whole 
condition,  character,  and  destiny  of  the  hearer." 
No  man  who  has  heard  can  be  as  if  he  had  not. 
Though  he  may  wish  to  pass  on  as  if  he  had  not 
seen  Christ  at  all,  he  is  not  the  same  man  as  he 
was  before,  his  spiritual  condition  is  altered, 
possibilities  have  dawned  upon  his  mind,  open- 
ings into  regions  which  are  new  and  otherwise 
inaccessible,  he  is  haunted  by  unsettled  per- 
plexities, doubts,  anxieties,  thoughts. 

This  attitude  of  mind  must  have  been  very 
common  in  Christ's  own  time,  many  persons 
must  have  shrunk  from  the  responsibility  of 
determining  for  themselves  what  they  ought  to 
think  of  Him,  Many  now  do  the  same.  They 
wish  to  overlook  Him  and  pass  on  into  life  as  if 
He  were  not  in  their  path.  But  how  foolish  if 
He  be  the  one  foundation  on  whom  a  life  can 
safely  be  built.  Men  do  not  think  of  sin  as^a 
permanent  foundation — they  only  think  of  it  as 
a  temporary  expedient — practises  get  into  a 
man's  life  which  he  does  not  like  to  think  of  as 
permanent,  but  only  as  serving  present  turns. 
They  do  not  deliberately  choose  anything  as 
permanently   satisfactory,    cannot    bring    their 


208  THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN. 

minds  to  the  idea  of  being  built  in  and  settled 
finally,  even  though  they  have  some  conscious- 
ness that  it  were  wise  to  be  so.  Those  who  thus 
overlook  Christ  and  try  to  pass  on  into  life  as 
if  He  were  not,  damage  their  own  character,  be- 
cause they  know  He  is  there,  and  until  they 
make  up  their  minds  about  Him,  life  is  a  mere 
make-believe.  It  is  thus  they  are  bruised  on 
this  stone  of  stumbling.  They  are  practising 
upon  themselves,  and  are  not  true  to  their  own 
convictions.  They  do  not  walk  steadily  and  up- 
rightly as  those  whose  path  is  ascertained  and 
assured,  but  they  stumble  as  those  who  are  still 
tripped  up  and  held  back  by  something  they 
have  not  taken  account  of  Just  as  a  person 
who  feels  he  has  forgotten  something,  cannot 
give  his  mind  fully  to  what  is  before  him,  but  is 
held  back  by  the  unconscious  effort  to  remember, 
so  here  the  spirit  that  has  yet  to  take  account  of 
Christ  and  decide  regarding  Him  is  held  back 
and  distracted.  Besides,  this  unwillingness  to 
face  facts  fairly,  this  desire  to  do  for  a  time  with- 
out Christ,  and  as  if  He  were  not  in  our  path,  is 
apt  to  produce  a  habitual  falseness  in  the  spirit. 
You  may  be  unconscious  of  any  such  process, 
but  many  processes  go  on  in  us  quite  as  effect- 
ually without  as  with  our  intention.  Those 
which  are  fatal  to  the  body  do  so.  Each  refusal 
to  determine  regarding  Christ  makes  your  con- 
science blunter,  your  heart  less  open  to  righteous 


THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN.  209 

and  reasonable  influence.     It  may  be  by  a  very 
little,  yet  it  does.     The  frost  of  a  minute,  or  of 
thirty  minutes,  may  be  imperceptible  in  its  re- 
sult, or  it  may  only  draw  a  few  pretty  lines  upon 
the  water,  but  it  is  frost  all  the  same,  and  is 
gradually  forming  a  strength  of  surface  which 
no  hammer  can  break,  nor  any  fire  melt.     By 
trying,   then,  to  get    past   Christ  and  make  a 
life  for  yourself  without  Him,  by  trying  to  build 
on  some  other  foundation,  you  are  both  trying 
to  do  what  everything  is  arranged  to  defeat,  and 
you  are  injuring  your  own  character,  not  yield- 
ing to  the  influences  that  you  feel  to  be  good, 
nor  listening  to  convictions  which  you  shrewdly 
suspect  to  be  reasonable. 

This  bruised  condition,  however,  is  remediable. 
The  second  action  of  the  stone  on  the  builder  is 
described  as  final.     The  stone,  which  is  of  suffi- 
cient massiveness  to  uphold  a  world,  falls  upon 
the  unhappy  opposer,  and  the  living,  hopeful  man 
lies  an  undistinguishable  mass.     At  once  slain 
and   buried,  those  who   determinedly  opposed 
Christ  lie  oppressed  by  that  which  might  have 
been  their  joy.     Their  dwelling  and  refuge  be- 
comes their  tomb.     Every  excellence  of  Christ 
they  have  leagued  against    themselves.      It   is 
their  everlasting  shame  that  they  were  ashamed 
of  Him.     The  faithfulness,  truth,  and  love  of 
Christ,  that  is  to  say,  the  qualities  whose  ex- 
istence is  all  that  any  saved  man  ever  had  to 
o 


2IO  THE  WICKED  HUSBANDMEN. 

depend  upon,  the  qualities  in  the  knowledge  and 
faith  of  which  the  weakest  and  most  heartless 
sinner  sets  out  boldly  and  hopefully  to  eternity, 
these  all  now  torment  with  crushing  remorse 
those  who  have  despised  them.  Do  not  suppose 
this  is  an  extravagant  figure  used  by  our  Lord 
to  awe  His  enemies,  and  that  no  man  will  ever 
suffer  a  doom  which  can  be  fairly  represented  in 
these  terms.  It  is  a  statement  of  fact.  Things 
are  to  move  on  eternally  in  fulfilment  of  the 
will  of  Christ.  He  is  identified  with  all  that  is 
righteous,  all  that  is  wise,  all  that  is  ultimately 
successful.  To  oppose  His  course,  to  endeavour 
to  defeat  His  object,  to  attempt  to  work  out  an 
eternal  success  apart  from  Him  is  as  idle  as  to 
seek  to  stop  the  earth  in  its  course,  or  to  stand 
in  the  path  of  a  stone  avalanche  in  order  to  stem 
it.  His  kingdom  is  an  everlasting  kingdom — 
He  has  become  the  Head  of  our  race,  that  in 
Him  we  may  together  be  led  on  to  everlasting 
prosperity  and  righteousness. 

The  whole  forward  movement  of  individuals 
and  of  the  race  must  be  made  on  the  lines  laid 
down  by  Christ,  and  the  time  is  coming  when  this 
shall  be  so  plainly  manifested  that  all  who  have 
not  His  spirit  shall  feel  that  all  power  has  left 
them,  and  shall  see  the  whole  stream  of  life  and 
progress  flow  past  them,  leaving  them  stranded 
and  wrecked  and  useless.  For  a  long  time  it 
may  be  doubtful  in  a  country  and  in  national 


THE  WICKED   HUSBANDMEN.  211 

affairs  whether  progress  and  prosperity  are 
bound  up  with  one  party  or  another,  with 
one  spirit  in  trade  and  in  government  or 
with  another,  and  men  take  their  sides  and 
adopt  their  several  causes  according  to  their 
tastes  and  judgment ;  but  a  day  comes  when 
the  one  party  is  put  to  confusion,  and  when 
it  is  entirely  left  behind  by  the  current  of 
events.  So  is  it  here,  but  in  a  far  more 
momentous  sense.  It  is  not  only  national 
affairs  that  are  governed  and  guided  by  certain 
deep  laws  that  the  craftiest  statesman  has  no 
power  whatever  to  alter ;  but  the  affairs  of  the 
individual,  of  each  one  of  us,  and  of  all  men  to- 
gether, similarly  move  onwards  according  to 
certain  immutable  moral  laws.  These  are 
revealed  to  us  in  Christ,  that  we  may  know  and 
appropriate  them.  For,  just  in  proportion  as  we 
do  so,  and  attach  ourselves  to  Him,  and  feel  the 
power  and  beauty  of  His  way  and  of  His  spirit, 
shall  we  ourselves  stand  with  Him  when  all 
opposition  has  slunk  away  ashamed,  and  enter 
with  Him  on  the  great  future  which  will  open 
to  those  who  are  capable  of  taking  a  part  in  it. 
What,  then,  you  feel  it  in  you  to  do  by  God's 
grace  in  the  way  of  bending  your  will  to  what  is 
right,  of  subduing  the  evil  in  you  which  you 
see  can  but  lead  to  death  and  disturbance,  these 
things  do,  hoping  in  Him  who  has  promised  to 
return  and  reign  eternally. 


XI. 

THE  MARRIAGE   OF   THE  KING'S 
SON. 


"And  luhcn  the  chief  p nests  and  Pharisees  had  heard  his 
parables,  they  perceived  that  he  spake  of  them.  But  wlien  they 
sought  to  lay  hands  on  him,  they  feared  the  multitude,  because 
they  took  him  for  a  prophet.  And  Jesus  ansivercd  and  spake 
unto  them  again  by  parables,  and  said,  The  kingdom  of  heaven 
is  like  unto  a  certain  king,  luhich  made  a  marriage  for  his  son, 
and  sent  fo7-th  his  servants  to  call  them  that  7oere  bidden  to  the 
wedding :  and  they  %vould  not  cotne.  Again,  he  sent  forth  other 
servants,  saying.  Tell  them  which  are  bidden.  Behold,  1  have 
prepared  my  dinner :  my  oxen  and  my  fallings  are  killed,  and 
all  things  are  ready  :  come  unto  the  marriage.  But  they  made 
light  of  it,  and  went  their  ways,  one  to  his  farm,  another  to  his 
merchandise :  and  the  remnant  took  his  servants,  and  entreated 
them  spitefully,  and  slew  them.  But  when  the  king  heard 
thereof,  he  was  zuroth :  and  he  sent  forth  his  armies,  and  destroyed 
those  murderers,  and  burned  up  their  city.  Then  saith  he  to 
his  servants.  The  wedding  is  ready,  but  they  ivhich  were  bidden 
were  not  tuorthy.  Go  ye  thei-efore  into  the  highways,  and  as 
many  as  ye  shall  find,  bid  to  the  marriage.  So  those  scn'ants 
went  out  into  the  highways,  and  gathered  together  all  as  many 
as  they  found,  both  bad  and  good:  and  the  wedding  was  furnished 
luith  guests.  Atui  when  the  king  came  in  to  see  the  guests,  he 
saw  there  a  man  tuhich  had  not  on  a  wedding  garment :  and  he 
saith  unto  him.  Friend,  hoiv  camest  thou  in  hither  not  having 
a  wedding  garment?  And  he  was  speechless.  Then  said  the 
king  to  the  se7-vants,  Bind  hitn  hand  and  foot,  and  take  him 
away,  and  cast  him  into  outer  darkness;  there  shall  be  weeping 
and  gnashing  of  teeth.  For  many  are  called,  butfe'io  are  chosen." 
— Matt.  xxi.  45 — xxii,  14. 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING'S  SON. 

Matt.  x\i,  45 — xxii.  14. 

This  parable  is  spoken  to  the  same  mixed 
crowd  as  the  parable  of  the  Two  Sons  and  the 
parable  of  the  Wicked  Husbandmen.  Sorely 
hit  by  the  two  former  parables,  the  chief  priests 
and  Pharisees  would  fain  have  put  a  stop  to  this 
kind  of  teaching,  but  they  feared  the  people. 
Public  opinion  here,  as  often  elsewhere,  was 
healthier  than  the  opinion  of  the  clique  which 
had  the  official  guidance  of  ecclesiastical  and 
theological  affairs.  Public  opinion  was  too 
markedly  in  favour  of  Jesus  just  at  this  time  for 
the  Pharisees  to  ignore  or  brave  it.  They  felt 
they  must  take  it  into  account,  and  either  wait 
for  a  turn  in  the  tide,  or  compass  their  end  by 
craft,  and  secretly.  While  they  hesitate  and 
stand  measuring  the  heartiness  of  the  crowd  in 
Jesus'  favour,  and  considering  how  far  they  may 
venture,  this  third  parable  is  launched  against 
them. 

The  object  of  it  is  still  the  same — to  set  in  a 
vivid  light  the  guilt  of  the  Jewish  leaders  in  re- 
jecting   Christ,    and  the  punishment  which  in 


2  I  6       THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING's  SON. 

consequence  was  to  fall  upon  them  ;  but  to  this 
third  parable  an  appendix  is  added,  which  is 
even  more  striking  than  the  parable  itself — an 
appendix  spoken,  as  we  shall  see,  rather  for  the 
sake  of  the  crowd  than  as  a  warning  to  the 
Pharisees. 

Already  in  His  parables  our  Lord  had  com- 
pared the  kingdom  of  God  to  a  feast,  for  the 
sake  of  illustrating  the  rude,  discourteous,  and 
mistaken  way  in  which  men  deal  with  God's 
invitations.     There  are  occasions  on  which  men 
combine  to  be  happy,  meet  for  the  understood 
purpose  of  enjoyment,  so  that  anything  which 
interrupts  or  represses  the  hilarity  of  the  com- 
pany  is   frowned    upon   as   out   of  place   and 
inopportune.     Matters  of  great  importance  are 
postponed,  questions  requiring  much  gravity  in 
their  discussion  are  avoided,  anything  that  might 
irritate   or   slightly  annoy  or   discompose  any 
single  guest  is  excluded,  and,  in  short,  everything 
is  arranged  to  admit  of  free,  unrestrained  mirth. 
And  when  such   occasions  are  public,  he  who 
refuses  to  join  in  the  national  festivity  is  looked 
upon  as  a  traitor,  and  he  who  has  private  griefs 
is   expected    to   keep   them   in  abeyance,  "to 
anoint    his   head    and   wash  his    face   that   he 
appear  not  unto  men  to  fast."     Disloyalty  could 
scarcely  assume  a  more  marked  form  than  if  a 
man  being  invited  to  share  the  festal  joy  of  his 
king  on  some  such  worthy  occasion  as  that  here 


TPIE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KINGS  SON.        217 

adduced,  were  either  to  refuse  the  invitation,  or, 
accepting  it,  were  to  conduct  himself  with  so 
sullen  and  ru^e  a  demeanour  as  to  show  that  his 
feelings  were  quite  out  of  harmony  with  his 
host's.  Such  a  man  would  be  at  once  recognised 
as  disaffected  and  a  rebel,  and  also  as  a  rebel 
who  had  chosen  a  singularly  unfortunate  and 
discourteous  mode  of  exhibiting  his  rebellion. 

But  the  speciality  of  this  parable  is  that  the 
feast  to  which  the  king  invites  His  subjects  is 
a  marriage  feast.  Prominence  is  given  to  the 
circumstance  that  the  host  is  a  king,  and  that 
the  occasion  of  the  feast  is  the  marriage  of  His 
Son. 

It  is  obvious  how  this  figure  was  suggested  to 
the  mind  of  Christ.  Long  before  His  time  the 
relation  between  husband  and  wife  had  been 
used  to  exhibit  the  devotedness  and  fidelity  with 
which  God  gives  Himself  to  men,  as  well  as  the 
intimacy  and  loving  care  to  which  He  admits 
them.  And  the  close  alliance  between  God  and 
men  which  was  thus  expressed,  was  actually 
consummated  in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ. 
His  assumption  of  humanity  into  perfect  union 
with  His  own  Divine  nature  was  the  actual 
marriage  of  God  and  man.  In  Him  God  and 
man  are  made  one — so  truly  and  perfectly  one, 
that  whereas  formerly  marriage  was  used  to 
illustrate  this  union,  now  this  union  stands  as 
the  ideal  to  which  marriage    may  aspire,  but 


2  I  8       THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE   KING's  SON. 

which  it  can  never  reach.  It  is  a  union  which 
has  the  characteristics  of  marriage.  It  is  the 
result  of  love  and  choice,  not  of  nature  ;  and  it 
implies  that  the  stronger  party  assume  the 
responsibilities  and  watch  over  the  interests  of 
the  weaker.  The  marriage  is  formed  that  the 
stronger  party  may  have  fuller  opportunity  to 
help  and  serve  the  weaker.  God  then  might 
reasonably  expect  that  men  should,  at  least  on 
this  occasion,  recognise  that  God  and  they  con- 
stituted one  kingdom  and  cause.  Well  might 
He  expect  that  now,  at  least,  they  should  rejoice 
with  Him.  It  is  their  nature  that  is  seated  on 
the  throne,  their  rights  that  are  thus  secured, 
their  prosperity  that  is  thus  guaranteed.  And 
yet,  though  proclamation  had  been  made  of  the 
coming  festivities,  though  due  invitation  had 
been  given,  and  though,  finally,  John  had  been 
sent  to  say  that  now  all  things  were  ready  and 
to  herald  the  bridegroom  in  visible  form  through 
their  streets,  the  people  had  listened  with  dead 
indifference,  as  if  it  had  been  a  kingdom  in  the 
moon  that  was  spoken  of,  and  as  if  God  had 
wholly  mistaken  in  supposing  that  such  an 
event  had  any  bearing  at  all  on  them  or  their 
interests. 

This  union  of  God  and  man  that  is  as  natural 
as  love,  and  as  supernatural  as  God — this  union, 
consummated  in  Christ,  is  the  foundation  of  our 
hope.     Apart  from  this  we  may  find  some  little 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KINg's  SON.       2\g 

help  in  the  hour  of  temptation,  some  faint 
ghmmering  of  hope  in  the  time  of  trouble,  but 
nothing  that  can  quite  satisfy  and  bring  to  us  a 
perfect  light — nothing  that  can  give  us  God,  the 
Highest  of  all,  the  Eternal,  the  Almighty,  the 
unfailing  Love  and  Life.  Jesus  Christ  blesses 
mankind  not  by  His  superior  moral  teaching 
mainly,  nor  only  by  His  giving  us  a  clearer 
knowledge  of  God  than  other  teachers  have 
done,  but  by  His  bringing  God  into  human  life, 
by  showing  us  our  God  suffering  with  and  for 
us,  by  bringing  God  to  work  among  us  and  in 
our  place,  and  thus  to  lift  humanity,  by  a  power 
Divine,  to  its  highest  level.  It  is  by  bringing 
thus  a  new  thing  into  the  world,  the  fulness  of 
God  Into  human  life,  that  He  has  done  that 
which  no  one  but  He  could  do,  and  which  merits 
the  gratitude  of  every  man.  He  has  thus 
become  the  true  Bridegroom  of  men,  the  joy  and 
help  of  us  all.  That  was  a  memorable  expres- 
sion of  Napoleon's  when  he  said,  "Jesus  Christ 
has  succeeded  in  making  of  every  human  soul 
an  appendage  to  His  own."  He  has  made 
Himself  the  indispensable  person  to  us  all — the 
indispensable  "  fellow-worker  with  each  man  in 
the  realisation  of  his  supreme  destiny." 

The  earnest  sincerity  of  God  in  seeking  our 
good  in  this  matter  is  illustrated  in  the  parable 
by  one  or  two  unmistakable  traits — first,  by 
the  king's  willing  observance  of  every  form  of 


220       THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KINGS  SON. 

courtesy.  Among  ourselves  there  are  certain 
forms,  an  etiquette,  which  a  host  who  is  anxious 
to  please  his  guests  is  careful  to  conform  to. 
There  are  ways  of  putting  an  invitation  which 
make  it  almost  impossible  even  for  the  reluctant 
to  withhold  acceptance.  In  the  East  one  of 
these  forms  is  the  sending  of  a  second  messenger 
to  announce  the  actual  readiness  of  the  feast. 
In  countries  where  no  memoranda  are  written, 
and  where  no  fixed  hours  are  observed  or 
appointed,  such  a  final  and  second  invitation  is 
almost  necessary ;  or,  if  not  necessary,  does  at 
least  pleasantly  display  the  cordiality  of  the  host. 
To  this  form  God  condescended.  He  not  only 
sent  invitations  by  the  prophets,  bidding  the 
Jews  expect  this  festivity,  but  when  it  was  ready 
He  sent  John  to  remind  them  and  to  bring  them. 
So  it  is  always.  Because  God  is  so  true  in  his 
purpose  to  bless  you,  therefore  is  He  most  care- 
ful of  all  your  feelings,  picking  each  smallest 
stone  out  of  your  path  that  might  cause  you  to 
stumble  and  take  offence,  leaving  the  reluctant 
without  apology.  God  does  not  invite  you  to 
what  has  no  existence,  nor  to  what  is  not  worth 
going  so  far  to  get,  nor  on  terms  it  is  impossible 
to  fulfil,  nor  in  such  a  manner  that  no  man  who 
respects  himself  can  accept  it.  On  the  contrary, 
what  God  offers  you  is  that  in  which  He  Himself 
rejoices.  He  offers  you  fellowship  with  His 
own  Son,  He  offers  you  righteousness  and  love, 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING  S  SON.        22  1 

and  He  offers  this  to  you  with  the  observance 
of  every  form  that  could  prove  consideration 
of  your  feelings,  and  in  a  way  which  involves 
that  every  one  who  really  wishes  to  be  blessed 
will  receive  all  the  help  he  requires  in  striving 
to  be  so. 
^2-  Another  proof  of  the  earnestness  of  God  in 
His  invitation  is  His3Tath  against  the  murderers 
who  had  refused  it.  You  are  not  much  offended 
at  one  who  refuses  an  invitation  you  have  given 
in  jest,  or  for  form's  sake,  half  hoping  it  would 
not  be  accepted.  God  is  angry  because  you 
have  treated  in  jest  and  made  light  of  what  has 
been  most  earnest  to  Him  ;  because  you  have 
crossed  Him  in  the  sincerest  purpose  to  bless 
you  ;  because  after  He  has  at  the  greatest  ex- 
pense, not  only  of  wealth  and  exertion,  but  of 
life,  provided  what  He  knows  you  need,  you  act 
towards  Him  as  if  He  had  done  nothing  that 
deserves  the  least  consideration.  This  accept- 
ance or  rejection  of  God's  offers  that  we  come 
and  talk  over,  often  as  if  the  whole  matter  were 
in  our  hands  and  we  might  deal  with  it  as  we 
arrange  for  a  journey  or  an  evening's  amuse- 
ment, is  to  God  the  most  earnest  matter.  If 
God  is  in  earnest  about  anything,  it  is  about 
this  ;  if  the  whole  force  of  His  nature  concen- 
trates on  any  one  matter  it  is  on  this  ;  if  any- 
where the  amplitude  and  intensity  of  Divine 
earnestness,    to    which    the    most    impassioned 


2  2       THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KINGS  SON. 

human  earnestness  is  as  the  idle  vacant  sighing  of 
the  summer  air,  if  these  are  anywhere  in  action,  it 
is  in  the  tenderness  and  sincerity  with  which  He 
invites  you  to  Himself  There  may  be  nothing 
so  trivial  as  to  be  powerless  to  turn  you  from 
God's  message,  but  nothing  is  so  important  as 
to  turn  Him  from  seeing  how  you  receive  it. 
You  may  think  His  invitation  the  least  interest- 
ing of  all  subjects,  you  may  in  point  of  fact 
scarcely  ever  seriously  consider  whether  it  is 
to  be  accepted  or  not,  whether  it  is  an  invita- 
tion, whether  you  might  act  upon  it,  and  why 
you  do  not — the  whole  matter  of  God's  offer  to 
you  may  be  unreal,  but  your  answer  is  matter  of 
God's  consideration,  and  nothing  can  so  occupy 
Him  as  to  turn  His  observation  from  you.  No 
glad  tidings  from  any  other  part  of  His  govern- 
ment can  so  fill  His  ear  as  to  drown  your  sullen 
refusal  of  His  grace.  To  save  sinners  from 
destruction  is  His  grand  purpose,  and  success 
in  other  parts  of  His  government  does  not  repay 
Him  for  failure  here.  And  to  make  light  of 
such  an  earnestness  as  this,  an  earnestness  so 
wise,  so  called  for,  so  loving,  pure,  and  long- 
suffering,  so  Divine,  is  terrible  indeed.  To  have 
been  the  object  of  such  earnest  love,  to  have 
had  all  the  Divine  attributes  and  resources  set 
in  motion  to  secure  my  eternal  bliss,  and  to 
know  myself  capable  of  making  light  (making 
light !)  of  such  earnestness  as  this,  this  surely  is 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KINGS  SON.        223 

to  be  in  the  most  forlorn  and  abject  condition 
that  any  creature  can  reach. 

The  last  scene  in  this  parable  comes  upon  us 
unexpectedly,  and  forms    indeed   an  appendix 
introducing   a    new    lesson,   and   directed   to  a 
special  section  in  the  audience.     No  doubt  our 
Lord  perceived  that  parables  such  as  He  had 
been    uttering   were    open    to    misconstruction. 
Ill-living  and  godless  persons,  coarse,  covetous, 
and    malicious    men    might   be   led    to    fancy 
that  it  mattered  very  little  how  they  had  lived, 
or  what  they  were.     They  saw  that  the  gates  of 
the  kingdom  were  thrown  open,  that  all  indis- 
criminately  were    invited    to    enter,    that    God 
made  no  distinctions,  saying  to  one,  "  I  cannot 
forget  your  former  neglect,"  to  another,  "  I  do 
not  wish  your  presence,"  to  a  third,  "  You  are  too 
far  gone  in  sin,  I  do  not  invite  you."    It  had  been 
made  quite  clear  to  them    by   these    parables 
that    they   themselves   were   as    free    to    enter 
the  kingdom  as  those  religious  men  they  had 
been  accustomed  to  consider  so  much  more  in 
God's  favour  than  they  were.     This  perception 
of  the  absolute  unconditioned  freedom   of  en- 
trance, this  sense  borne  in  upon  their  mind  that 
they  were  the  objects  of  God's  love  and  invitation, 
might  possibly  lead  them  to  overlook  the  great 
moral  change  requisite  in  all  who  enter  God's 
presence  and  propose  to  hold  intercourse  with 
Him.     It  is  to  disabuse  them  of  the  idea  that 


2  24      THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING  S  SON. 

the  acceptance  of  God's  invitation  entails  no 
alteration  in  their  habits  and  spirit,  that  this 
appendix  is  added. 

This  object  is  gained  by  setting  before  them 
an    instance   in   which    one   who  accepted  the 
invitation  was  convicted  of  a  contempt  of  the 
host  even  greater  than  that  which  was  involved 
in    rejecting   his   invitation.       He   entered    the 
banquetting  hall  without  a  wedding  garment, 
appeared  at  the  King's  table  in  just  the  dress  in 
which  he  had  been  found  in  the  streets  by  the 
servants.     But  had  he  any  means  of  obtaining 
a  dress  more  in    keeping   with   the   occasion  ^ 
Was  he  not  perhaps  a  man  so  poor  that  he 
could  afford  no  preparation  of  any  kind  ?     Had 
this  been   so,   it  would  have  been  pleaded  in 
excuse.     But    no   doubt  the   parable  supposes 
that  the  not  unusual  custom  of  providing  for 
the  guests  the  needed  garment  had   been  ad- 
opted ;  a  provision  which  this  guest  had  despised 
and  refused ;  he  had  pushed  past  the  officious 
servants  who  would  have  clothed  him.     It  is 
this  that  constituted  the    man's   audacity  and 
guilt.     Similar  audacity  in  entering  the  king's 
presence  without  putting  on  the  robe  sent  by 
the  king  for  that  purpose,  has  been  known  to 
cost  a  prime  minister  his  life.     A  traveller  who 
was  invited,  with  the  ambassadors  he  accom- 
panied, to  the  table  of  the  Persian  king,  says : — 
"  We  were  told  by  the  officer  that  we,  according 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KINGS  SON.        2  25 

to  their  usage,  must  hang  the  splendid  vests 
that  were  sent  us  from  the  king  over  our  dresses, 
and  so  appear  in  his  presence.  The  ambassadors 
at  first  refused,  but  the  officer  urged  it  so 
earnestly,  alleging,  as  also  did  others,  that  the 
omission  would  greatly  displease  the  king,  since 
all  other  envoys  observed  such  a  custom,  that 
at  last  they  consented,  and  hanged,  as  did  we 
also,  the  splendid  vests  over  their  shoulders." 
So  at  this  marriage,  dresses  had  been  provided 
by  the  king.  The  guests  who  had  been  picked 
off  the  streets  were  not  told  to  go  home  and  do 
the  best  they  could  for  their  dress,  but  in  the 
palace,  in  the  vestibule  of  the  banquet-hall  each 
man  was  arrayed  in  the  dress  the  king  wished 
to  see  worn. — Possibly  this  man  who  declined 
the  offered  garment  had  a  dress  of  his  own  he 
grudged  to  cover.  Possibly  he  thought  he  was 
as  well  dressed  as  need  be.  He  would  stroll  in 
superciliously  as  a  patron  or  spectator,  thinking 
it  very  fit  for  those  poor,  coarse-clothed  and 
dirty  people  to  make  use  of  the  king's  wardrobe, 
but  conscious  of  no  speck  nor  uncleanliness  in 
his  own  raiment  that  should  cause  him  to 
make  any  alteration  of  it. 

Neither  is  this  a  formal  and  artificial  custom 
representing  a  formal  and  artificial  method  of 
judging  men.  In  point  of  fact  this  rejection  of 
the  marriage-dress  is  proof  of  alienation  of  spirit, 
disaffection,  want  of  .sympathy  with  the  feelings 
P 


>r«^ 


226      THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KINGS  SON. 

of  the  king.  The  man  who  could  refuse  the 
festive  dress  on  such  an  occasion  must  lack  the 
festive  spirit,  and  is  therefore  a  "  spot  in  the 
feast."  It  is  a  real  and  internal,  not  a  merely 
formal  and  external  distinction  that  exists  be- 
tween him  and  the  rest  of  the  guests.  He  sits 
there  out  of  harmony  with  the  spirit  of  the 
occasion,  despising  the  exultation  and  mirth  of 
his  neighbours,  and  disloyal  to  his  king.  There- 
fore is  his  punishment  swift  and  severe.  The 
eye  of  the  king  that  travels  round  the  tables 
and  carries  welcome  and  hearty  recognition, 
gladdening  all  his  loyal  subjects,  is  suddenly 
arrested  upon  this  unseemly,  audacious,  unjus- 
tifiable intruder.  As  every  guest  turns  to  see 
the  cause  of  the  changed  expression  in  the  face 
that  lights  up  the  whole  feast,  there  with  head 
that  would,  but  cannot,  hang,  with  horror-stricken 
eye  rivetted  upon  the  face  of  the  king,  stands 
the  despiser  of  the  wedding-garment — speech- 
less— all  his  guilt  and  easy  confidence  gone, 
fearful  misgivings  sliding  into  his  heart,  quail- 
ing and  fainting  beneath  that  just  and  pitiful 
eye  that  empties  him  of  all  self-deceit,  of  all 
self-confidence,  of  all  untruth.  He  welcomes 
the  attendants  who  hurry  him  from  the  gaze 
of  the  assembled  guests  and  the  brilliant  lights 
of  the  hall ;  but  not  the  outer  darkness  of  an 
Eastern  street,  not  the  pitchy  blackness  in  which 
he  lies  unseen  and  helpless,  can  hide  him  from 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING's  SON.       22  7 

that  gaze  of  His  Lord  which  he  feels  to  be  im- 
printed on  his  conscience  for  evermore.  It  is 
that  which  pursues  him,  that  which  makes  him 
outcast  from  all  consolation  and  all  hope,  that 
he  has  alienated  his  Lord,  has  been  branded  by 
his  king,  has  forfeited  the  approval  and  favour 
of  Him  whose  recognition  and  fellowship  carry 
with  them  all  joy,  and  hope,  and  blessing. 

Does  this  man's  conduct  signify  anything  to 
ourselves  .'*  Does  his  doom  cover  any  great 
truth  that  concerns  ourselves .-'  How  idle  it 
seems  to  ask  the  question.  Is  there  any  com- 
moner way  of  dealing  with  God's  invitation 
than  that  which  this  man  adopted.?  He  had] 
no  deep  love  for  his  king,  no  grateful  and 
humbling  sense  of  his  kindness,  no  percep- 
tion of  what  was  due  to  him,  but  with  the 
blundering  stupidity  of  godlessness,  thought 
selfishness  would  carry  him  through,  and  ran 
right  upon  his  doom.  Whatsis  commoner 
than  this  self-complacency,  this  utter  blind- 
ness to-tircriact' that  God  is  holy,  and  that 
holiness  must  therefore  be  the  rule  every- 
where ;  what  is  commoner  than  the  feeling  that 
we  are  well  enough,  that  we  shall  somehow 
pass  muster,  that  as  we  mean  to  take  our 
places  among  the  heavenly  guests  we  shall 
surely  not  be  ejected  ?  How  hard  it  is  for  any 
of  us  fully  to  grasp  the  radical  nature  of  the  in- 
ward change  that  is  required  if  we  are  to  be 


2  28       THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING's    SON. 

meet  for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light. 
Cohlformity  to  God,  ability  to  rejoice  with  God 
and  in  God,  humble  and  devoted  reverence,  a 
real  willingness  to  do  honour  to  the  King's  Son, 
these  are  great  attainments  ;  but  these  constitute 
our  wedding-garment,  without  which  we  cannot 
remain  in  His  presence  nor  abide  His  searching 
gaze.  It  will  come  to  be  a  matter  between  each 
one  of  you  singly  and  Him,  and  it  is  the  heart 
you  bear  towards  Him  that  will  determine  your 
destiny.  No  mere  appearance  of  accepting 
His  invitation,  no  associating  of  yourself  with 
those  who  love  Him,  no  outward  entrance  into 
His  presence,  no  making  use  of  the  right  lan- 
guage is  anything  to  the  purpose.  What  is 
wanted  is  a  profound  sympathy  with  God,  a 
real  delight  in  what  is  holy,  a  radical  acceptance 
of  His  will, — in  other  words,  and  as  the  most  un- 
tutored conscience  might  see,  what  is  wanted  is 
a  state  of  mind  in  you  which  God  can  delight 
in,  and  approve  of,  and  hold  fellowship  with. 
To  His  table,  to  His  everlasting  company,  to 
Himself  and  His  love  He  invites  you,  and  in 
order  to  accept  this,  the  only,  invitation  He 
gives  (for  there  are  no  degrees,  no  outer  and 
inner  circles,  no  servants  made  of  those  who  will 
not  be  friends) — in  order  to  accept  this  invitation, 
or  in  the  acceptance  of  it,  acceptance  of  God,  of 
His  spirit,  character,  and  ways  is  necessary. 
There  is  no  real  acceptance  of  the  invitation, 


i 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KINGS  SON.       229 

no  abiding  entrance  into  God's  favour  where 
there  is  no  growing  hkeness  to  God ;  without 
this  it  is  mere  word  and  self-deception.  "  Know 
ye .  not  that  the  unjust  shall  not  inherit  the 
kingdom  of  God  .-*  Be  not  deceived  :  neither 
fornicators,  nor  idolaters,  nor  adulterers,  nor 
effeminate,  nor  thieves,  nor  covetous,  nor  drunk- 
ards, nor  revilcrs,  nor  extortioners  shall  inherit 
the  kingdom  of  God." 

For  "  many  are  called,  but  few  chosen." 
To  all  of  us  the  invitation  comes :  there  is 
no  man  whom  God  does  not  desire  to  see 
enjoying  His  bounty.  There  is  no  question 
about  the  invitation — you  have  it — good  and 
bad  alike  are  invited,  and  yet  even  among 
those  who  seem  to  accept  it,  there  is  some- 
times lacking  that  which  can  alone  give  them 
a  permanent  place  in  His  presence  and  favour. 
There  is  no  real  sympathy  with  God,  no 
pleasure  in  those  matters  which  He  deems 
important,  no  similarity  of  spirit — in  a  word, 
no  real  goodness.  This  is  a  state  of  spirit 
which  will  one  day  develope  into  a  conscmis- 
ness  that  we  have  nothing  in  common  with  God. 

But,  in  conclusion,  there  is  abundant  en- 
couragement in  this  parable  to  all  who  are  will- 
ing and  desirous  to  put  on  the  Lord  Jesus./ 
As  the  poor  people  picked  up  by  the  servants 
of  the  king  would  have  felt  very  awkward  about 
their   dress,   and    could    not   in    decency   have 


230      THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KINg's  SON. 

accepted  the  invitation  had  they  not  been 
assured  that  a  suitable  dress  would  be  given 
them  ;  so  should  we  feel  very  awkward  indeed, 
if,  when  summoned  into  God's  presence,  there 
should  remain  in  us  anything  to  make  us  feel 
out  of  place,  uneasy,  fearful.  But  the  invitation 
itself  guarantees  the  provision  of  all  that  follows 
it.  It  is  the  first  business  of  every  host  to  make 
his  guest  feel  at  home,  and  therefore  does  God 
provide  us  not  only  with  great  outward  bless- 
ings, but  with  all  that  can  make  us  feel  easy  and 
glad  in  His  presence.  Fellowship  with  Him  is 
indeed  reverential,  for  He  is  our  King :  but 
being  our  Father  there  will  be  in  it  also  more 
of  the  exuberant  delight  of  a  family  gathering 
than  of  the  stiffness  of  a  formal  state  banquet 
throughout  which  we  long  for  the  termination, 
or  are  hindered  from  all  enjoyment  through  fear 
of  doing  something  out  of  place. 

Though,  therefore,  there  are  many  called  but 
few  chosen,  there  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
not  be  among  the  few.  For  God  not  only  offers 
enjoyment,  but  also  power  to  enjoy.  If  you 
could  not  be  easy  in  God's  presence  without 
great  alterations  in  your  character,  these  altera- 
tions will  be  made.  The  bona  fide  invitation  is 
your  guarantee  that  they  will  be  made.  If  you 
could  not  be  easy  in  God's  presence  without 
knowing  that  He  was  fully  aware  of  all  you  had 
thought  and  done  against  Him,  and  forgave  it 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  THE   KINGS  SON.        23  I 

you  ;  if  you  could  not  eat  at  the  table  of  one 
against  whom  you  harboured  ill-will ;  if  you 
could  not  enjoy  anything  in  company  thoroughly 
uncongenial,  whose  conversation  was  all  of  sub- 
jects quite  uninteresting  to  you ;  if  you  are 
conscious  that  in  order  to  enjoy  any  entertain- 
ment the  prime  requisite  is  that  you  have  a 
genuine  admiration  and  love  for  the  host — then 
this  will  all  be  communicated  to  you  on  your 
acceptance  of  God's  invitation.  Do  you  always 
feel  that  God's  holiness  is  too  high  and  distant 
for  fellowship  ?  But  consider  how  Christ  drew 
men  and  women  to  Him.  No  one  ever  created 
such  a  passion  of  devoted  love  as  He.  Consider 
Him  and  you  will  at  length  learn  to  think  more 
wisely  of  holiness.  Are  you  conscious  that 
your  habitual  leanings  and  likings  are  earthly, 
that  as  yet  you  are  more  at  home  in  other  com- 
panies than  in  God's  .-'  Does  your  unfitness  even 
more  than  your  unworthiness  deter  you — does 
your  want  of  ability  to  find  your  joy  in  God 
alarm  you  more  than  your  guilt  ?  Still  you  see 
here  that  God  invites  you  as  you  are,  and  those 
whom  He  casts  out  are  only  those  who  have  so 
fond  a  confidence  in  themselves  as  to  think  they 
are  fit  enough  for  His  presence  as  they  stand. 


XII. 
THE  TEN  VIRGINS. 


y\ 


"  T/uvi  sliall  the  kingdo/n  of  heaven  be  likened  unto  ten  virgins, 
which  took  their  lamps,  and  went  forth  to  meet  the  bridegroom. 
And  five  of  them  were  ivise,  and  five  were  foolish.  They  that 
zvere  foolish  took  their  lamps,  and  took  no  oil  zuith  them :  but  the 
wise  took  oil  in  their  vessels  with  their  lamps.  While  the  bride- 
groom tarried,  they  all  slumbered  and  slept.  And  at  midnight 
there  luas  a  cry  made.  Behold,  the  bridegroom  cometh  ;  go  ye  out 
to  meet  him.  Then  all  those  virgins  arose,  and  trimmed  their 
lamps.  And  the  foolish  said  unto  the  wise.  Give  us  of  your  oil; 
'or  our  lamps  are  gone  out.  But  the  ivise  answered,  saying, 
^ot  so  ;  lest  there  be  not  enough  for  us  and  you:  but  go  ye  rather 
to  than  that  sell,  and  buy  for  yourselves.  And  luhile  they  went 
to  buy,  the  bridegroom  came ;  and  they  that  were  ready  -went  in 
with  him  to  the  marriage :  and  the  door  was  shut.  Aftci-wards 
came  also  the  other  virgins,  saying.  Lord,  Lord,  open  to  us. 
But  he  ansiuered  and  said,  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  I  know  you 
not.  Watch  therefore,  for  ye  know  neither  the  day  nor  the  hour 
jvherein  the  Son  of  man  cometh.'''' — Matt.  x\v.  1-13. 


THE  TEN  VIRGINS. 

Matt.  xxv.  1-13. 

The  prolonged  discourse  of  which  this  parable 
forms  a  striking  part  was  uttered  in  reply  to  a 
very  natural  question  which  the  disciples  had 
put  to  our  Lord.  In  ignorance  of  what  was 
chiefly  engaging  His  thoughts,  and  in  simple- 
minded,  rustic  admiration  of  the  metropolis, 
they  had  been  taking  Him  round  to  show  Him 
the  marvels  of  the  now  completed  temple.  And 
well  might  they  expect  to  hear  their  own  ex- 
clamations of  surprise  and  overwhelming  ad- 
miration echoed  from  every  one  who  in  their 
day  "  walked  about  Zion "  and  marked  her 
bulwarks,  or  gazed  on  the  astounding  pile  of 
marble  that  crowned  the  opposite  summit  of 
Moriah.  Buildings  of  similar  magnificence  were 
scarcely  elsewhere  to  be  seen.  It  can  scarcely 
have  been  with  cold  contempt  for  those  stupend- 
ous architectural  works,  but  rather  with  deep 
sorrow  and  compassion  that  our  Lord,  after 
silently  gazing  upon  them,  or  entering  with 
sympathy  into  the  enthusiasm  of  his  compan- 
ions   at    last    let    fall    the    unexpected    vrord. 


■o 


6  THE  TEN  VIRGINS. 


"  Verily  I  say  unto  you  there  shall  not  be  left 
here  one  stone  upon  another,  that  shall  not  be 
thrown  down."  It  was  inevitable  that  the  dis- 
ciples should  eagerly  desire  to  know  when  this 
catastrophe  was  to  occur.  "  Tell  us  when  shall 
these  things  be,  and  what  shall  be  the  sign  of 
Thy  coming  and  of  the  end  of  the  world." 

Our  Lord's  reply  to  this  question  is,  that  the 
day  and  the  hour  of  His  coming  are  known  to 
the  Father  only,  and  that  therefore  the  only 
way  to  be  prepared  for  that  hour  is  to  be 
always  ready,  prepared  for  any  hour  and  every 
hour.  This  is  the  lesson  which  He  means  the 
parable  to  convey,  and  which  He  expressly 
draws  in  the  words,  "  Watch,  therefore,  for  ye 
know  neither  the  day  nor  the  hour  when  the 
Son  of  man  cometh."  And  we  must  beware  of 
pressing  this  or  any  parable  to  say  more  than 
it  was  meant  to  say.  We  get  what  it  was  in- 
tended to  give  when  by  its  vivid  imagery  we 
are  practically  aroused  to  the  necessity  of  being 
always  prepared  for  our  Lord's  coming.  We 
may  therefore  dismiss  a  great  deal  of  minute 
allegorizing  and  searching  for  hidden  meanings 
in  little  turns  of  expression  and  parabolic 
accessories  with  the  words  of  one  of  the  Re- 
formers who  says,  "It  is  nothing  at  all  to  the 
purpose  to  speculate  and  refine  about  virginity 
and  lamps  and  oil  and  those  who  sell  oil. 
These    refined    speculations   are   the   trifles    of 


THE  TEN  VIRGINS.  237 

allegorizers.  But  the  one  idea  that  is  of 
moment  is,  that  they  who  are  really  prepared 
shall  enter  into  the  joy  of  the  Lord,  while  the 
unprepared  shall  be  excluded."  Or  we  may  say 
with  Calvin  himself: — "Some  expositors  torment 
themselves  greatly  in  explaining  the  lamps,  and 
the  vessels,  and  the  oil ;  but  the  simple  and 
genuine  meaning  of  the  whole  is  just  this,  that 
it  is  not  enough  to  have  a  lively  zeal  for  a 
while.  We  must  have  in  addition  a  persever- 
ance that  never  tires." 

Neither  need  we  spend  time  on  the  customs 
from  which  the  parable  draws  its  imagery.  Let 
it  suffice  to  read  the  words  of  one  of  the  most 
accurate  describers  of  what  is  to  be  seen  in 
India.  "At  a  marriage,"  he  says,  "the  proces- 
sion of  which  I  saw  some  years  ago,  the  bride- 
groom came  from  a  distance,  and  the  bride 
lived  at  Serampore,  to  which  place  the  bride- 
groom was  to  come  by  water.  After  waiting 
two  or  three  hours,  at  length,  near  midnight,  it 
was  announced,  as  if  in  the  very  words  of 
Scripture,  '  Behold  the  bridegroom  cometh,  go 
ye  out  to  meet  him.'  All  the  persons  employed 
now  lighted  their  lamps,  and  .  ran  with  them  in 
their  hands  to  fill  up  their  stations  in  the  pro- 
cession. Some  of  them  had  lost  their  lights, 
and  were  unprepared  ;  but  it  was  then  too  late 
to  seek  them,  and  the  cavalcade  moved  forward 
to  the  house  of  the  bride,   at  which  place  the 


238  THE  TEN  VIRGINS. 

company  entered  a  large  and  splendidly  illum- 
inated area  before  the  house  covered  with  an 
awning,  where  a  great  multitude  of  friends, 
dressed  in  their  best  apparel,  were  seated  upon 
mats.  The  bridegroom  was  carried  in  the  arms 
of  a  friend,  and  placed  upon  a  superb  seat  in 
the  midst  of  the  company,  where  he  sat  a  short 
time,  and  then  went  into  the  house,  the  door  of 
which  was  immediately  shut,  and  guarded  by 
sepoys.  I  and  others  expostulated  with  the 
doorkeepers,  but  in  vain.  Never  was  I  so  struck 
with  our  Lord's  beautiful  parable  as  at  this 
moment :  and  the  door  ivas  slmtT 

This  imagery  so  familiar  to  our  Lord's  hearers 
was  used  on  this  occasion  to  illustrate  chiefly 
1/ these  three  things  :  the  meaning  of  our  Lord's 
/  command  to  watch  ;  its  reason  ;  and  the  means 
of  fulfilling  it.  It  illustrates  the  meaning  of 
the  command ;  shewing  us  that";  it  does  not 
mean,  "  Be  ye  always  on  the  watch,"  but  "  Be 
always  prepared."  The  fisherman's  wife  who 
spends  her  time  on  the  pier-head  watching  for 
the  boats,  cannot  be  so  well  prepared  to  give 
her  husband  a  comfortable  reception  as  the 
woman  who  is  busy  about  her  household  work, 
and  only  now  and  again  turns  a  longing  look 
seaward.  None  of  the  virgins  were  on  the 
watch  for  the  bridegroom,  but  some  of  them 
were  nevertheless  prepared  for  His  coming.  It 
is  impossible  for  us  to  be  always  looking  out 


/ 


THE  TEN  VIRGINS.  239 

for  the  coming  of  Christ,  but  it  is  quite  possible  to 
be  prepared  for  His  coming.  Our  life  is  to  bear 
evidence  that  one  of  the  things  we  take  into 
account  is  the  approach  of  our  Lord. 

2,  It  illustrates  also  the  reason  of  the  com- 
mand.    No  one  can  tell  when  this  second  great 
interruption  of  the  world's  even  course  is  to  take 
place.    It  may  be  nearer  than  some  expect;  or  as 
the  parable  shows,  it  may  be  more  distant  than 
some   expect.      The   expectation  of  a  speedy 
termination  of  things  which  so  largely  prevailed    ' 
in    the   first   Christian  generation    might  have 
been  moderated  by  the  wide  circulation  of  this 
parable.      The  virgins  who  neglected  to  carry  )^ 
reserve-flasks  of  oil  were  those  who  expected  \ 
the  bridegroom  would  soon  appear.     They  did 
not  anticipate  a  long  delay  ;  they  made  no  pro- 
vision for  continuance.     Had  the  hour  been  a 
fixed  one  they  would  have  been  prepared,  but 
they  were  betrayed  by  its  uncertainty.     And  no 
doubt  if  any  one  could  say  with  authority,  "The 
Lord  is  to  come  on  Tuesday  first,"  a  very  large 
number   of  persons  would  at  once  prepare  as 
best  they  could  to   meet   Him.     If  the  belief 
really  grew  up  within  them  that  on  a  certain 
day  not  far  distant  they  must  face  their  Lord, 
that  belief  would  certainly  produce  a  multitude 
of  thoughts  and  some  efibrts  at  preparation.     It 
is,  then,  after  all,  your  baseless  supposition  that 
the  Lord  will    not  come  quickly  that  betrays 


240  THE  TEN  VIRGINS. 

you  into  carelessness.  This  parable  assures  you 
you  have  no  ground  for  saying,  "  My  Lord 
delayeth  His  coming."  You  really  do  not  know 
how  near  He  is. 

And  if  any  one  feels,  "  Well,  this  then  comes 
to  no  more  than  an  appeal  to  fear.  The  appeal 
made  by  the  parable  is  grounded  on  the  assump- 
tion that  Christians  will  be  better  men,  and  do 
more  if  they  expect  to  be  quickly  summoned 
into  Christ's  presence," — if  this  be  felt,  it  can  only 
be  said  in  reply  that  fear  is  in  many  circum- 
stances the  equivalent  of  prudence,  and  a  very 
wholesome  motive;  and  further, that  the  expecta- 
tion of  Christ's  coming  does  not  give  rise  only  to 
fear,  but  also  to  hope ;  that  it  braces  the  Chris- 
tian's energies,  and  in  accordance  with  human 
nature  quickens  the  spiritual  life.  Or  if  any  one 
feels  that  to  have  stimulated  all  past  generations 
with  the  expectation  of  an  event  which  did  not 
after  all  occur,  is  artificial  and  unworthy,  it 
should  be  enough  to  reflect  that  the  beneficial 
system  of  insurance  proceeds  on  principles  to  a 
large  extent  similar. 

3.  The  parable  shews  us  hoiv  we  are  to  pre- 
pare for  meeting  the  Lord.  We  are  to  be 
prepared  to  join  in  the  festal  celebration  of  His 
coming.  We  are  to  be  in  a  position  to  join 
with  those  who  add  lustre  to  His  presence,  who 
give  Him  a  hearty  welcome,  and  who  enter  with 
Him  into  His  joy.     We  are  prepared  for  His 


THE  TEN  VIRGINS.  24 1 

coming  ii''  we  are  in  the  spirit  of  the  occasion, 
and  if  we  are  furnished  with  what  may  fit  us  for 
suitably  appearing  in  His  company.  The 
lamps  of  the  virgins  were  meant  to  lend 
brilliancy  to  the  scene  ;  they  were  intended  as 
a  festal  illumination.  The  virgins  whose  lamps 
burned  brightly  were  not  ashamed  to  be  seen 
forming  part  of  the  bridal  company.  They 
were  in  keeping  with  it.  Conscience  will  tell 
us  what  numbers  us  among  the  wise  or 
among  the  foolish.  Everything  in  us  that 
heartily  welcomes  Christ's  presence,  and  heartily 
rises  to  do  Him  honour ;  everything  about  us 
that  can  reflect  any  brightness  or  glory  on  Him  ; 
everything  that  makes  us  better  than  blots  and 
blacknesses  in  His  retinue  ;  everything  that  will 
seem  a  suitable  accompaniment  in  the  triumph 
of  a  holy  Redeemer,  is  a  preparation  for  Christ's 
coming. 

The  parable  is  not  addressed  to  those  who 
have  never  made  any  preparation  for  Christ's  ^■^. 
coming,  but  to  those  who  have  not  made  suffi- 
cient preparation.  It  reminds  us  that  all  who 
may  at  one  time  show  similar  preparedness  for 
Christ's  presence  do  not  in  the  end  show  the 
same.  Of  those  who  start  with  similar  inten- 
tions and  similar  external  appearance  a  number 
fail  to  fulfil  their  original  intention,  and  in  the 
end  behe  their  promising  appearance.  It  is  the 
same  everywhere  :  in  severe  marches,  prolonged 

Q 


242  THE  TEN  VIRGINS. 

and  fatiguing  enterprises  and  labours,  a  number 
always  tail  off  and  are  not  forthcoming  at  the 
final  muster.  The  number  who  at  any  period 
of  their  life  really  go  forth  to  meet  their  Lord, 
delighting  to  do  Him  honour  and  seeking  His 
presence,  may  not  be  very  large ;  but  it  is  much 
larger  than  the  number  who  maintain  their  pre- 
paredness to  the  end.  The  reason  of  this  so 
frequent  failure  is  here  declared.  The  folly  of 
the  foolish  virgins  consisted  in  this,  that  while 
the  wdse  took  oil,  they  took  none:  that  is  to  say, 
made  no  provision  against  any  delay  in  the 
time  of  the  Bridegroom's  appearance.  They 
lit  their  lamps,  but  made  no  provision  for  feed- 
ing them :  the  flame  was  to  all  appearance 
satisfactory,  but  the  source  of  it  was  defective. 
And  without  running  the  figure  too  hard,  we 
may  say  that  those  who  in  the  end  of  their  life 
fail  to  show  as  much  fitness  for  Christ's  presence 
as  they  did  at  some  previous  period,  fail 
because  they  have  been  all  along  superficial 
and  have  never  been  filled  with  grace  at  the 
source,  have  not  had  the  root  of  the  matter  in 
them. 

The  foolish  virgins,  then,  are  a  warning  to  all 
who  are  tempted  to  make  conversion  every- 
thing, edification  nothing  ;  who  cultivate  reli- 
gion for  a  season  and  then  think  they  have 
done  enough  ;  who  were  religious  once,  can 
remember  the  time  when  they  had  very  serious 


THE  TEN  VIRGINS.  243 

thoughts,  and  very  solemn  resolutions,  but  who 
have  made  no  earnest  effort,  and  are  making 
none,  to  maintain  within  themselves  the  life 
they  once  began.  The  wise  are  those  who 
recognise  that  they  must  have  within  them  that 
which  shall  enable  them  to  endure  to  the  end 
— not  only  impressions,  right  impulses,  tender 
feelings,  but  ineradicable  beliefs  and  principles 
which  will  at  all  times  produce  all  right  impulse 
and  feeling.  It  is  not  in  vain  that  our  nature 
is  made  as  it  is  made.  In  body  and  soul  things 
are  so  ordered  that  one  part  aids  and  feeds 
another  part.  Without  a  good  digestion  no 
other  function  can  be  thoroughly  well  per- 
formed ;  as  well  performed  as  it  might  be. 
And  in  our  spiritual  nature,  our  feelings  and 
impulses  are  nourished  by  our  beliefs  and  per- 
ceptions. If  we  recognise  the  truth,  if  we  have 
come  to  an  assured  and  settled  conviction  that 
Christ  has  lived,  and  that  He  now  lives,  if  our 
perceptions  and  beliefs  are  bringing  us' in  con- 
tact with  the  truth,  with  Christ,  and  with  things 
unseen,  then  we  may  expect  to  continue  to  the 
end. 

Another  point  may  be  accepted  from  this 
part  of  the  Parable :  that  there  must  be  regard 
paid  both  to  the  outward  and  inward  life.  The 
vessel  of  oil  is  not  enough  without  the  burning 
lamp  ;  nor  the  lamp  merely  lighted  and  with 
no  supply  of  oil.     There  is  a  something  which 


^44  THE  TEN  VIRGINS. 

makes  you  worthy  of  entering  with  Christ  into 
lasting  joy.  And  this  something  is  not  an 
exhibition  of  the  external  marks  of  a  Christian, 
neither  is  it  the  certainty  that  once  you  had 
inward  grace  ;  but  it  is  the  continuous  main- 
tenance, to  the  end,  both  of  the  outward  works 
which  manifest,  and  of  the  inward  graces  which 
are  the  life  of  a  Christian.  The  inward  life  of 
the  soul  and  the  outward  expression  of  that 
life  bear  to  one  another  an  essential  relation. 
On  the  one  hand,  if  you  do  not  constantly 
renew  your  supply  of  grace,  if  you  do  not  care- 
fully see  to  the  condition  of  your  own  spirit, 
your  good  works  will  soon  become  less  fre- 
quent, less  sincere,  and  less  lovely :  your  flame 
will  burn  low.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  you 
tend  only  the  life  of  your  own  soul,  if  you  seek 
only  to  possess  as  much  grace  as  possible  for 
yourself,  if  you  ask  for  the  Holy  Spirit  and  yet 
do  none  of  those  things  in  which  the  Spirit 
would  naturally  express  Himself,  if  you  do 
not  let  your  light  shine  before  and  upon  men 
in  the  actual  circumstances  you  are  placed  in, 
then  you  will  soon  find  that  your  internal  life 
begins  to  stagnate  and  corrupt. 
I  To  a  healthy  Christian  life  these  two  things 
are  essential.  A  vessel  of  oil  is,  in  itself,  of  no 
use  on  a  dark  night.  The  oil  is  not  light,  and 
might  as  well  be  water  unless  a  light  be  added. 
And  a  burning  wick  which  lasts  only  for  half  a 


THE  TEN  VIRGINS.  245 

minute,  is  only  disappointing  and  tantalising. 
A  Christian  must  not  only  feel  right  but  do 
right;  and  must  not  only  do  right  but  feel  right. 
To  be  filled  with  the  Spirit  you  have  but  to 
pray.  You  cannot  manufacture  nor  create  that 
which  can  sustain  your  spiritual  life  :  God  only 
can  give  it,  and  give  it  He  does,  gladly  and  liber- 
ally, in  answer  to  your  requests.  And  having 
the  Spirit  you  must  use  Him;  letting  your  light 
shine  not  so  as  to  show  yourself  more  conspicu- 
ously, but  so  as  to  help  on  others  in  their  dark 
and  doubtful  way  through  this  life ;  by  dealing 
fairly  with  them,  by  being  generous  and  con- 
siderate, by  doing  the  best  you  can  for  every 
one  you  have  to  do  with  in  any  capacity. 

This  is  the  reason  why  many  of  us  feel 
slightly  jarred  in  spirit  when  we  hear  converts 
rising  in  a  confession-meeting  one  after  another 
and  saying,  "  I  was  saved  last  Wednesday 
night,"  "I  was  saved  on  the  i8th  February," 
"I  was  saved  on  the  12th  March,"  and  so  on. 
It  is  not  that  we  do  not  believe  that  they  are 
speaking  the  truth,  but  that  we  know  that  they 
have  yet  to  be  tested  by  life.  We  rejoice  with 
them  because  they  have  found  their  Saviour ; 
we  tremble  for  them  because  we  know  that 
they  have  yet  to  work  out  their  own  salvation 
through  years  of  temptation.  All  that  their 
confession  means  is,  that  their  lamp  is  lit,  but 
how  long  it  will  burn  is  quite  another  question. 


246  THE  TEN  VIRGINS. 

They  are  merely  in  the  condition  of  the  ten 
virgins  as  they  first  went  out,  and  only  time  can 
show  whether  they  have  oil  or  not.  They  may 
have  been  able  to  rejoice  in  Christ  at  a  given 
hour  last  week  or  last  month,  and  may  at  that 
hour  have  risen  to  greet  Him,  and  there  is 
nothing  wrong  in  their  declaring  that  such  has 
been  the  case  :  but  their  trial  has  yet  to  take 
place  ;  it  has  yet  to  be  discovered  whether, 
when  many  years  have  passed,  they  shall  still 
be  found  rejoicing  in  Him.  For  in  many  cases 
it  would  appear  as  if  conversion  and  salvation 
were  looked  upon  as  equivalents :  in  many 
cases  there  is  a  lack  of  soberminded  counting 
of  the  cost,  and  a  jubilation  of  spirit  which  would 
be  more  becoming  at  the  close  of  the  long  fight 
of  faith  than  at  its  commencement.  You  may 
say  you  are  saved  when  you  fairly  put  yourself 
into  Christ's  hand  ;  but  you  must  also  remem- 
ber that  then  your  salvation  is  only  beginning, 
and  that  you  cannot,  in  the  fullest  sense,  say 
you  are  saved  until  Christ  has  wrought  in  you 
a  perfect  conformity  to  Himself. 

This  being  the  distinction  between  the  wise 
and  foolish  virgins,  that  which  brings  it  to  light 
is  that  the  Bridegroom  did  not  come  while  all 
the  lamps  were  yet  burning,  and  that  during 
His  delay  they  all  slumbered  and  slept.  This 
seems  to  mean  no  more  than  that  all,  having 
made  such  preparation  as  they  judged  sufficient 


THE  TEN  VIRGINS.  247 

"calmly  and  securely  waited  the  approach  of 
the  Bridegroom."  There  can  scarcely  be  any 
more  than  this  meant  by  the  sleep  ;  nothing 
which  would  make  the  sleep  culpable  on  the 
part  of  the  wise,  for  we  do  not  find  that  any 
evil  consequence  whatever  followed  to  them ; 
rather  they  would  be  all  the  fresher  for  their 
rest,  the  better  prepared  to  enter  on  the  joy. 
But  the  security  which  is  excusable,  and  the 
repose  which  is  necessary  to  one  condition,  is  in 
another  utter  madness.  Unconstrained  mirth, 
eager  pursuit  of  business,  is  one  thing  in  the 
man  who  has  just  examined  his  books  and 
made  arrangements  to  meet  all  claims,  but 
it  is  quite  another  thing  in  him  who  has  made 
no  such  arrangements  and  does  not  know 
whether  he  can  meet  his  engagements.  So  it 
is  one  thing  to  turn  away  your  attention  from 
the  person  and  coming  of  Christ  when  you  have 
made  sure  you  are  prepared  to  meet  Him,  and 
altogether  another  thing  to  turn  your  attention 
to  other  things  in  mere  thoughtless  security. 
It  is  one  thing  to  engage  in  the  business  of  this 
life,  knowing  that  though  your  Lord  find  you 
in  it,  you  have  what  will  enable  you  to  meet 
Him,  the  graces  then  required  being  really  in 
you  and  ready  to  show  themselves,  though  not 
at  present  called  into  exercise  by  the  calculation, 
or  the  plan,  or  the  work  you  are  engaged  in 
for  the  hour ;  but  it  is  wholly  another  thing  to 


248  THE  TEN  VIRGINS. 

plunge  into  the  world's  business  without  having 
once  considered  whether  you  have  given  suffi- 
cient attention  to  your  preparedness  for  that 
event  which  may  interrupt  any  day's  business, 
or  without  keeping  up  a  constant  examination 
of  the  inward  life  of  your  spirit. 

But  we  may  learn  from  the  slumber  of  the 
wise,  as  well  as  from  the  rash  sleep  of  the 
foolish.  There  is  a  kind  of  sleep  in  which 
the  sense  of  hearing,  at  least,  is  on  the  alert, 
and  when  by  a  skilful  discrimination  unattain- 
able when  awake,  the  sense  takes  note  only  of 
the  one  sound  it  waits  for,  so  that  the  sound  of 
a  distant  and  watched-for  footstep  arouses  to 
the  keenest  wakefulness.  If  you  look  on  these 
weary,  slumbering  virgins,  you  see  the  lamps 
firmly  grasped,  and  when  you  try  to  unclasp 
the  slumbering  but  faithful  fingers,  every  faculty 
is  at  once  on  the  alert.  Other  noises  do  not 
awaken  them,  but  before  the  cry,  "  The  Bride- 
groom cometh "  has  ceased  to  echo  in  the 
porch  that  shelters  them,  they  stand  erect  and 
are  trimming  their  lamps.  So  should  it  be  with 
us ;  whatever  necessary  occupation,  whatever 
necessary  saturation  of  our  minds  with  the 
thoughts  of  this  world's  property,  turns  our 
direct  attention  from  the  approach  of  our  Lord, 
there  should  still  be  an  openness  of  sense  in 
His  direction,  a  settled  persuasion  that  it  is 
His  voice  that  must  be  hearkened  to,  a  predis- 


THE  TEN  VIRGINS.  249 

posedness  to  attend  rather  to  Him  if  He  should 
call,  an  inwrought  though  latent  ^expectation  of 
His  coming,  a  consciousness,^  which  but  a 
whisper  will  arouse,  that  what  we  are  here  for 
is  not  to  slumber,  not  to  do  what  we  might  as 
well  or  better  do  anywhere  else  and  with  no 
hope  of  our  Lord's  coming,  but  still  to  meet 
Him.  Through  all  the  sleep  of  these  virgins, 
dream  would  be  chasing  dream,  they  would  be 
seeing  bridal  processions,  gorgeous  with  all  the 
gay  and  fantastic  adornment  which  the  closed 
eye  so  clearly  sees,  hearing  sackbut  and  dul- 
cimer and  all  kinds  of  music,  and  ever  and 
anon  starting  to  hear  if  the  cry,  "  The  Bride- 
groom Cometh  "  were  not  real  and  summoning 
themselves.  So  through  all  the  occupations  of 
a  Christian  in  which  he  is  not  watching  for  his 
Lord  and  trimming  his  lamp,  there  is,  or 
should  be,  an  under-current  of  expectation,  ever 
keeping  him  in  unconscious  preparedness,  occa- 
sionally roused  into  actual  looking  out  to  see. 
He  is  not  always  gazing  forward,  but  ever  and 
anon  sends  a  messenger  from  the  inmost  citadel 
of  his  soul  to  enquire,  "  Watchman,  what  of  the 
night  >  " 

While  they  are  thus  all  slumbering,  and 
when  their  sleep  is  deepest,  when  the  fatigue 
of  watching  is  most  felt,  when  things  are  stillest, 
and  men  count  upon  a  few  hours  quiet  and  de- 
liverance from  care,  "  at  midnight, '  the  cry  is 


250  THE  TEN  VIRGINS. 

heard,  "  Behold,  the  Bridegroom  cometh !  " 
And  now  the  difference  between  the  really  and 
apparently  prepared  is  manifested.  There  is 
something  terrible  in  the  security  of  the  foolish 
maintained  up  to  the  last.  They,  too,  arise  and 
trim  their  lamps ;  even  though  there  is  nothing 
but  a  quenched,  foul  wick,  yet  they  seem  to 
think  still  that  matters  are  not  so  bad.  They 
have  but  to  ask  oil  of  their  pleasant  companions. 
Not  yet  are  they  aware  that  their  fate  is  already 
sealed.  And  this  sudden  and  appalling  reversal 
of  their  hopes,  this  mingling  at  a  marriage  feast 
of  exultant  joy  and  the  most  melancholy  and 
calamitous  ruin,  seems  intended  to  fix  in  our 
minds  an  idea  opposite  to,  and  that  should  ex- 
tirpate the  idle  fancy  that  things  somehow  will 
come  all  right  ;  that  there  is  no  real  need  of  all 
this  urgent  warning  and  watching ;  that  in  a 
world  governed  by  a  good  and  loving  God,  and 
where  things  are  going  on  now  pretty  tolerably 
and  so  very  prosaically,  there  cannot  occur  those 
startling,  unnatural,  desolating  events  predicted 
in  God's  word.  It  seems  so  fearful  and  incredible 
a  thing  that  a  world  men  take  so  lightly  and 
joyously  should  be  quietly  leading  them  on  to 
eternal  ruin,  that  men  maintain  their  easy  dis- 
position to  the  last,  and  cannot  believe  that 
out  of  a  life  that  may  be  jested  or  trifled  away, 
consequences  so  lasting  and  so  awful  can  pos- 
sibly flow.     Many  things  are  needed  to  drive 


THE  TEN  VIRGINS.  25  I 

this  security  out  of  us,  and  many  things  are 
given  us  for  this  end.  The  virgins  go  out  with 
no  thought  but  of  festivity,  enjoyment,  and 
happy  excitement ;  five  of  them,  before  the 
night  is  gone,  are  found  and  left  in  the  bitterest 
sorrow  and  self-reproach.  "  They  that  were 
ready  went  in  to  the  marriage,  and  the  door 
was  shut." 

In  these  words  one  seems  to  hear  the  decisive, 
final  doom  of  the  lost.  The  crash  of  the  heavy 
dungeon  door  and  the  retiring  footsteps  are  not 
more  sickening  to  the  heart  of  him  that  is  left 
to  die  of  hunger,  than  the  heavy,  sudden  closing 
of  this  door  that  shuts  in  the  saved  and  shuts 
out  the  lost.  As  the  feeling  of  comfort  inside 
the  house  increases  when  the  storm  howls  around 
and  shakes  it,  as  if  seeking  an  entrance  that  it 
cannot  find,  so  does  the  misery  of  those  left 
outside  increase  when  they  hear  the  sound  of 
revelry  and  mirth,  and  see  the  warm  lights 
thrown  out  on  the  darkness.  They  look  round 
despairingly  as  the  storm  begins  to  rise,  as  the 
first  moan  of  the  gathering  tempest  nears  and 
lights  upon  them,  and  warns  them,  as  if  in  pity, 
of  the  blasts  that  follow  as  if  in  anger.  But 
once  the  door  is  shut  no  piteous  clamour  outside 
can  open  it.  No  sense  of  the  awful  state  of 
things  outside,  no  willingness  now  to  be  within, 
avails  to  force  it  back  upon  its  hinges.  Every 
voice  that  wails  for  entrance  is  still  met  by  the 


252  THE  TEN  VIRGINS. 

same  chilling,  hopeless  reply,  "  I  know  you 
not."  A  new  thing  it  is  for  that  door  to  be 
shut.  So  long  has  it  stood  open,  thrown  wide 
back,  that  we  forget  there  is  a  door  that  can 
shut  that  entrance ;  that  it  is  not  more  useful 
now  to  let  in,  than  one  day  to  keep  out.  But 
the  time  comes  when  whosoever  will  shall  not 
be  saved  ;  when  it  will  be  vain  pointing  men 
to  the  door ;  when  whosoever  is  outside,  there 
remains.  And  this  time  may  be  before  you  rise 
from  where  you  now  sit.  No  man  can  say  it 
shall  not.  He  who  feels  it  most  unfair  to  be 
hedged  up  thus  to  an  hour,  to  be  told  it  is 
unsafe  and  unreasonable  to  delay  even  so  long, 
cannot  assert  that  the  end  is  further  distant. 
To-day  the  door  is  open,  to-morrow  it  may  be 
too  late  to  seek  entrance.  The  hand  that  closes 
it  may  already  be  laid  upon  it. 

It  is  foolishness,  not  wickedness,  that  is  repre- 
hended in  these  virgins — that  is  to  say,  in  those 
who  are  represented  by  them.  The  wise  man 
is  he  who  shapes  his  conduct  in  accordance 
with  the  truth  of  things  and  with  actual  facts  ; 
the  foolish  man  is  he  who  shuts  his  eyes  to 
what  he  does  not  wish  to  see,  and  fancies  that 
somehow,  though  he  can't  tell  how,  things  will 
go  all  right  with  him.  He  is,  in  fact,  the  ostrich 
who  buries  his  head  in  the  sand  and  fancies  he 
has  escaped  because  he  has  shut  his  eyes  to 
what  is  hostile.     The  man  who  makes  no  pre- 


THE  TEN  VIRGINS.  2  53 

^^paration  for  the  future  is  a  foolish  man.  He 
may  explain  it  to  himself  as  he  pleases,  but  to 
attempt  an  explanation  is  only  to  give  further 
proof  of  his  foolishness.  He  may  see  his  way 
with  perfect  clearness  a  few  paces  before  him, 
but  if  he  does  not  see  where  it  is  to  end,  how 
can  he  tell  whether  he  ought  to  go  on  even 
these  few  paces  ?  The  man  who  does  not 
think,  who  docs  not  consider  whether  he  is 
prepared  for  the  future  or  not,  who  does  not 
seriously  measure  himself  by  every  standard  he 
can  think  of,  and  especially  by  the  inevitable 
requirements  of  God  and  eternity,  is  a  foolish 
man.  He  may  be  clever,  brilliant  in  talk  and 
very  entertaining  in  company,  he  may  be  useful 
in  business,  he  may  be  well-meaning,  but  he  is 
foolish — has  none  of  that  wisdom  which  consists 
in  seeing  things  as  they  actually  are,  and  in 
conforming  oneself  to  them.  The  man  who  at 
this  present  time  is  in  point  of  fact  leaving  it  to 
mere  chance  whether  he  is  to  be  saved  or  lost, 
must  surely  feel  that  he  is  profoundly  foolish. 

Let  us  then  meet  Christ's  intention  in  the 
parable,  and  see  that  for  our  part  we  are  pre- 
pared for  His  coming.  Let  us  make  sure  that 
the  little  flame  once  kindled  is  not  already 
burning  low.  Let  us  be  sure  that  we  are  living 
in  constant  communication  with  the  source  of 
all  spiritual  life  ;  that  the  very  spirit  of  Christ 
dwells  in  us  richly.     Is  there  one  who  feels  that 


2  54  THE  TEN  VIRGINS. 

things  are  not  with  him  as  they  ought  to  be, 
and  that  he  has  decHned  from  the  glad  prepared- 
ness he  once  enjoyed,  or  even  that  he  has  never 
attained  to  a  state  in  which  any  lustre  could  be 
thrown  by  him  on  the  redeeming  grace  of  Christ  ? 
To  this  person  Christ  speaks  the  parable.  It  is 
you  He  longs  to  see  providing  yourself  with  the 
material  of  everlasting  goodness  and  everlasting 
joy.  There  is  a  Spirit  offered  you  through 
whom  you  can  become  pure  and  loving,  capable 
of  good,  at  peace  with  yourself  and  with  God. 
What  response  do  you  make  to  Christ's  offers  .-' 
Are  you  to  turn  away  and  let  it  be  possible 
that  the  next  summons  you  hear  may  be  : 
"Behold  the  Bridegroom  cometh,  go  ye  out  to 
meet  Him  ?" 


XIII. 


THE     TALENTS. 


"  For  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  as  a  man  travelling  into  afar 
country,  who  called  his  02011  servants,  and  delivered  unto  them 
his  goods.  And  unto  one  he  gave  five  talents,  to  another  t'vo, 
and  to  another  one  ;  to  every  man  according  to  his  several  ability ; 
and  straightway  took  his  journey.  Then  he  that  had  received 
the  five  talents  went  and  traded  luith  the  same,  and  made  them 
other  five  talents.  And  likewise  he  that  had  received  two,  he 
also  gained  other  two.  But  he  that  had  received  one  went  and 
digged  in  the  earth,  and  hid  his  lord^s  money.  After  a  long 
time  the  lord  of  those  sei-vants  cometh,  and  reckoneth  with  them. 
And  so  he  that  had  received  five  talents  came  and  brought  other 
five  talents,  saying.  Lord,  thou  deliveredst  unto  me  five  talents : 
behold,  I  have  gained  beside  them  five  talents  more.  His  lord 
said  unto  him,  IVell  done,  thou  good  and  faithful  servant :  thou 
hast  been  faithful  over  a  few  things,  I  will  make  thee  ruler  over 
many  things :  enter  thou  into  the  Joy  of  thy  lord.  He  also  that 
had  received  ttvo  talents  came  and  said.  Lord,  thou  deliveredst 
unto  me  two  talents:  behold,  I  have  gained  tivo  other  talents 
beside  them.  His  lord  said  unto  him.  Well  done,  good  and 
faithful  servant;  thou  hast  been  faithful  over  a  few  things,  I 
will  make  thee  ruler  over  many  things :  enter  thoti  into  the  joy 
of  thy  lord.  Then  he  'which  had  received  the  one  talent  came 
and  said,  Lord,  I  knew  thee  that  thou  art  ati  hard  man,  reaping 
where  thou  hast  not  sown,  and  gathering  where  thou  hast  not 
s t rawed :  and  L  was  afraid,  and  went  and  hid  thy  talent  in  the 
earth:  lo,  there  thou  hast  that  is  thine.  His  lord  answered  and 
said  unto  him,  Thou  ivicked  and  slothful  sci-vant,  thou  knezuest 
that  I  reap  zvherc  /  so7ucd  not,  and  gather  where  /  have  not 
sti-aived:  thou  oughtest  therefore  to  have  put  my  money  to  the 
exchangers,  and  then  at  my  coming  I  should  have  received  mine 
own  with  usury.  Take  therefore  the  talent  from  him,  and  give 
it  unto  him  zvhich  hath  ten  talents.  For  unto  every  one  that 
hath  shall  be  given,  and  he  shall  have  abundance :  but  from  him 
that  hath  not  shall  be  taken  away  even  that  winch  he  hath. 
And  cast  ye  the  unprofitable  servant  into  outer  darkness  :  there 
shall  be  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth .'^ — Matt.  xxv.  14-30. 


THE  TALENTS. 
Matt,  xxv.  14-30. 

This  parable  illustrates  the  great  principle 
which  regulates  the  distribution  of  rewards  and 
punishments  in  the  kingdom  of  God — the  prin- 
ciple that  men  shall  be  judged  according  to  the 
means  at  their  disposal.  The  "  talents  "  repre- 
sent everything  over  and  above  natural  ability, 
by  which  men  can  advance  the  interests  of  the 
kingdom  ;  position,  opportunities,  and  espe- 
cially the  measure  of  grace  given  to  each  man. 
All  the  interests  of  Christ  upon  earth  are  en- 
trusted to  His  people.  He  has  distributed 
among  us  all  that  He  values  upon  earth. 
Destroy  from  earth  what  men  have  and  enjoy, 
and  all  that  Christ  prizes  is  gone.  There  is  no 
interest  of  His  carried  forward  without  human 
labour  ;  if  His  servants  all  cease  to  work.  His 
cause  on  earth  is  at  an  end.  And  every  ser- 
vant of  His  is  endowed  with  means  enough  to 
accomplish  his  own  share  in  Christ's  work.  He 
may  not  have  as  much  as  others.  But  to  be 
fair,  there  must  be  little  put  in  the  hands  of  the 
servant  who  can  only  make  use  of  a  little,  and 
R 


258  THE  TALENTS. 

much  put  at  the  disposal  of  him  who  can 
manage  a  large  amount.  It  is  as  easy — you 
may  say — to  make  ten  talents  out  of  five,  as  to 
make  four  out  of  two  ;  perhaps  easier.  Yes,  if 
you  choose  the  right  man,  but  many  a  man  who 
could  make  a  small  business  pay,  would  ruin 
himself  in  a  big  one.  Each  gets  what  each  can 
conveniently  and  effectively  handle  ;  and  no 
one  is  expected  to  produce  results  which  are 
quite  out  of  proportion  to  his  ability  and  his 
means. 

And  in  order  that  the  judgment  may  be  fair, 
the  reckoning  is  not  made  until  "  after  a  long 
time."  We  are  not  called  upon  to  show  fruit 
before  autumn.  The  servants  are  not  sum- 
moned to  the  reckoning  while  yet  embarrassed 
by  the  novelty  of  their  position  ;  time  is 
allowed  them  to  consider,  to  calculate,  to  wait 
opportunities,  to  make  experiments.  The  Lord 
does  not  quickly  return  in  a  captious  spirit,  but 
delays  till  the  wise  have  had  time  to  lay  up 
great  gains,  and  even  the  foolish  to  have  learnt 
wisdom.  So  with  ourselves  :  we  cannot  com- 
plain if  strict  account  be  taken  at  the  end, 
because  we  really  have  time  to  learn  how  to 
serve  our  Lord.  We  have  time  to  repair  bad  be- 
ginnings, to  take  thought,  to  make  up  in  some 
degree  for  lost  time.  We  are  not  hurried  into 
mistakes  and  snatched  to  judgment,  as  if  life 
were  an  ordeal  we  were  passing  through,  where 


THE  TALENTS.  259 

the  slightest  failure  finishes  our  chances  and  is 
relentlessly  watched  for  and  insisted  upon.  We 
see  well  enough  that  with  God  it  is  quite  other- 
wise ;  that  He  wishes  us  to  succeed,  will  not 
observe  our  failures,  winks  at  our  shortcomings, 
and  often  repairs  the  ill  we  have  done. 

It  is  not  without  significance  that  the  servant 
who  did  nothing  at  all  for  his  master,  was  he 
who  had  received  but  one  talent.  No  doubt 
those  who  have  great  ability  are  liable  to  temp- 
tations of  their  own  ;  they  may  be  more  ambi- 
tious, and  may  find  it  difficult  to  serve  their 
master  with  means  which  they  see  would  bring 
in  to  themselves  profits  of  a  kind  they  covet. 
But  such  men  are  at  all  events  not  tempted  to 
bury  their  talent.  This  is  the  peculiar  tempta- 
tion of  the  man  who  has  little  ability,  and 
sullenly  retires  from  a  service  in  which  he  can- 
not shine  and  play  a  conspicuous  part.  His 
ambition  outruns  his  ability,  and  while  he  envies 
the  position  of  others,  he  neglects  the  duties  of 
his  own.  Because  he  cannot  do  as  much  as  he 
would,  he  will  not  do  as  much  as  he  can.  By 
showing  no  interest  in  that  situation  in  life  that 
God  has  seen  fit  he  should  fill,  he  w^ould  have 
us  believe  he  is  qualified  for  a  higher. 

There  are  many  to  whom  this  hint  of  the 
parable  applies.  You  are  in  the  same  condem- 
nation as  this  servant  when  you  shrink  from 
exercising  your  talent ;  because  it  is  only  one 


26o  THE  TALENTS. 

and  a  small  one  ;  when  you  refuse  to  do^any- 
thing,  because  you  cannot  do  a  great  deal ;  when 
you  refuse  to  help,  where  you  cannot  lead  ; 
when  you  hesitate  about  aiding  in  some  work, 
because  those  with  whom  you  would  be  associ- 
ated in  it  do  it  better,  and  show  better  in  the 
doing  of  it  than  yourself;  when  you  refuse  to 
speak  a  word  in  behalf  of  Christ,  because  you 
could  not  satisfy  your  own  taste,  because  you 
could  not  do  it  so  well  as  some  other  person 
could  ;  when  you  refuse  to  take  some  position, 
engage  in  some  duty,  be  of  some  use  in  a  cer- 
tain department  in  which  you  would  not  excel, 
and  would  be  recognised  as  surpassed  by  some 
others.  This  miserable  fear  of  being  mediocre, 
how  many  a  good  work  has  it  prevented  or 
crippled.  If  we  wait  till  we  are  fully  qualified 
to  serve  Christ,  we  shall  never  serve  Him  at  all. 
If  we  cannot  stoop  to  learn  to  do  great  things 
by  doing  very  little  things,  we  shall  never  do 
great  things.  The  only  known  way  to  become 
a  strong  and  full-grown  man  is  to  be  first  a 
little  child. 

It  is  a  true  proverb  that  "  the  sluggard  is  wiser 
in  his  own  eyes  than  seven  men  that  can  ren- 
der a  reason."  He  can  always  justify  his  con- 
duct. The  insolence  of  this  man's  words  is  not 
intentional.  He  reads  off  correctly  his  own 
state  of  mind,  and  fancies  that  his  conduct  was 
appropriate  and  innocent.     It  was  not  his  fault 


THE  TALENTS.  26  I 

that  his  master  was  a  man  who  struck  terror 
into  the  hearts  of  his  servants,  and  whom  it  was 
useless  trying  to  please.  And  probably  this 
man's  account  of  the  reason  of  his  inactivity 
was  accurate.  All  wrongness  of  conduct  is 
at  bottom  based  on  a  wrong  view  of  God. 
Nothing  so  conduces  to  right  action  as  right 
thoughts  about  God.  If  we  think  with  this 
servant  that  God  is  hard,  grudging  to  give  and 
greedy  to  get,  taking  note  of  all  shortcomings, 
but  making  no  acknowledgment  of  sincere  ser- 
vice, exacting  the  utmost  farthing  and  making 
no  abatement  or  allowance — if  we  one  way  or 
other  virtually  come  to  think  that  God  never 
really  delights  in  our  efforts  after  good,  and 
that  whatever  we  attempt  in  our  life  He  will 
coldly  weigh  and  scorn,  then  manifestly  we  shall 
have  no  heart  to  labour  for  Him. 

But  this  view  of  God  is  unpardonably  narrow, 
and  the  action  flowing  from  it  is  after  all  incon- 
sistent. It  is  unpardonably  wrong,  and  the  very 
heartiness  with  which  these  other  servants  were 
greeted  refutes  it.  You  hear  the  hearty  "  well 
done  "  ringing  through  the  whole  palace — there 
is  no  hesitating  scrutiny,  no  reminding  them 
they  had  after  all  merely  done  what  it  was  their 
duty  to  do — not  at  all — it  is  the  genial,  gener- 
ous outburst  of  a  man  who  likes  to  praise  and 
hates  to  find  people  at  fault  ;  he  has  been  hop- 
ing to  get  a  good  account  of  his  servants,  and  it 


262  THE  TALENTS. 

is  far  more  joy  in  them  than  gratification  in  his 
increased  property  that  prompts  this  exclama- 
tion of  surprise  and  delight  and  approval.  He 
feels  himself  much  richer  in  the  fidelity  of  his 
servants  than  in  their  gains.  He  has  pleasure 
in  promoting  them,  in  bringing  them  up  more 
nearly  to  his  own  rank  and  person,  and  in 
making  them  thus  share  in  his  own  plans  and 
arrangements  and  rule  and  joy. 

Moreover,  not  only  is  the  view  of  the  master 
wrong,  but  the  consequent  action,  as  the  master 
points  out,  is  inconsistent.  If  the  master  is  so 
slow  to  recognise  sincere  effort,  so  oppressive  in 
his  exactions,  demanding  bricks  where  he  has 
given  no  straw,  requiring  impossible  perform- 
ances, and  measuring  all  work  by  an  impossible 
standard,  is  this  a  reason  for  making  no  effort 
to  conciliate  him  .-'  If  you  feared  that,  in  the 
necessary  hazard  of  business,  you  might  lose 
your  lord's  talent,  yet  surely  his  anger  would 
be  as  much  aroused  by  inactivity  as  by  unsuc- 
cessful efforts  to  serve  him  .■*  Why  did  you  not  at 
least  put  his  money  into  the  hands  of  men  who 
would  have  found  a  use  for  it,  and  would  have 
paid  you  a  good  interest .''  If  you  were  too 
timid  to  use  the  trust  your  lord  left  you,  if  you 
knew  too  little  of  business  and  the  world's  ways 
to  venture  on  any  self-devised  investment,  there 
were  plenty  of  substantial,  genuine  undertak- 
ings   into   which   you    might    have    put   }-our 


THE  TALENTS.  263 

means.  You  could  work  under  the  guidance  of 
some  more  masculine  nature,  who  could  direct 
and  shelter  you. 

There   are    numberless   ways    in   which   the 
most  slenderly  equipped    among   us  can  fulfil 
the  suggestion  here  given,  and  put  our  talent 
to  the  exchangers,  into  the  hands  of  men  who 
can  use  it.      There  is  no  lack  of  great  works 
going  on  for  our  Lord  to  which  we  may  safely 
attach    ourselves,   and    in  which  our   talent    is 
rather  used  by  the  leaders  of  the  work,  invested 
for  us,  than  left  to  our  own  discretion.     Just  as 
in  the  world  there  is  such  an  endless  variety  of 
work  needing  to  be  done,  that  every  one  finds 
his  niche,  so  there   is  no  kind  of  ability  that 
cannot    be    made   use  of    in   the   kingdom    of 
Christ.     The  parable  does  not  acknowledge  any , 
servants  who    have   absolutely  nothing ;   some 
have  little  as  compared  with  others,  but  all  have 
some  capacity  to  forward  the  interests  of  the 
absent  master.     Is  every  one  of  us  practically 
recognizing  this — that  there  is  a  part  of  the  work 
he  is  expected  to  do.-*    He  may  .seem  to  himself 
to  have  only  one  talent  that  is  not  worth  speak- 
ing about,  but  that  one  talent  was  given  that 
it  might  be  used,  and  if  it  be  not  used,  there 
will  be  something   lacking  when  reckoning  is 
made  which  might   and    ought    to    have   been 
forthcoming.     Certainly  there  is  something  you 
can   do,  that  is  unquestionable;    there  is  some- 


264  THE  TALENTS. 

thing  that  needs  to  be  done  which  precisely 
you  can  do,  something  by  doing  which  you  will 
please  Him  whose  pleasure  in  you  will  fill  your 
nature  with  gladness.  It  is  given  to  you  to 
jncrease^yonr  Lord's  goods. 

But  the  law  which  is  exhibited  in  this  para- 
bolic representation  is  also  explicitly  announced 
in  the  words  :  "  For  unto  every  one  that  hath 
shall  be  given,  and  he  shall  have  abundance, 
but  from  him  that  hath  not  shall  be  taken 
away  even  that  which  he  hath."  This  may  be 
called  the  law  of  Spiritual  Capital.  It  is  a  law 
with  the  operation  of  which  we  are  familiar  in 
nature,  and  in  the  commercial  world.  It  is  he 
who  has  even  a  little  capital  to  begin  with,  and 
who  makes  a  right  use  of  it,  who  soon  leaves  far 
behind  the  man  who  has  none,  or  who  neglects 
to  invest  what  he  has.  And  the  more  this 
capital  grows,  the  more  rapidly  and  the  more 
easily  is  it  increased.  After  a  certain  point, 
it  seems  to  increase  by  virtue  of  its  own 
momentum.  So  in  certain  sicknesses,  as  soon 
as  the  crisis  of  the  disease  is  past  and  a  little 
health  has  been  funded  again  in  the  patient's 
constitution,  this  rapidly  grows  to  complete 
recovery.  So  with  popularity,  it  begins  one 
scarce  knows  how ;  but  once  begun,  the  tide 
flows  apace.  You  may  scarcely  be  able  to  say 
why  one  statesman  or  one  author  should  be  so 
immeasurably  more  popular  than  others  ;  but 


THE  TALENTS.  265 

SO  it  is,  that  when  once  a  beginning  is  made, 
tribute  flows  in  naturally,  as  waters  from  all 
sides  settle  in  a  hollow.  It  is  the  same  with  the 
acquirement  of  knowledge  :  the  difficulty  is  to 
get  past  a  certain  point,  it  is  all  uphill  till  then; 
but  that  point  once  gained,  you  reach  the  table 
lands  and  high  levels  of  knowledge,  where  you 
begin  to  see  all  round  you,  and  information 
that  has  been  fragmentary,  and  therefore  useless 
before,  now  pieces  itself  together  and  rapidly 
grows  to  complete  attainment.  Every  thing 
you  hear  or  see  now  seems  by  a  law  of  nature 
to  contribute  to  the  fund  you  have  already 
acquired.  It  claims  kindred  with  it,  and  unites 
itself  to  it.  "  'Tis  the  taught  already  that  profits 
by  teaching." 

It  is  this  same  law  which  regulates  our  attain- 
ment in  the  service  of  Christ.  However  little 
grace  we  seem  to  have  to  begin  with,  it  is  this 
we  must  invest,  and  so  nurse  it  into  size  and 
strength.  Each  time  we  use  the  grace  we  have 
by  responding  to  the  demands  made  upon  it,  it 
returns  to  us  increased..  Our  capital  grows  by 
an  inevitable  law.  The  efforts  of  young  or 
inexperienced  Christians  to  give  utterance  to 
the  life  that  is  in  them  may  often  be  awkward, 
like  the  movements  of  most  young  animals. 
They  may  be  able  to  begin  only  in  a  very 
small  way,  so  small  a  way  that  sensitive  per- 
sons are  frequently  ashamed    to  begin   at  all. 


266  THE  TALENTS. 

Having  received  Christ,  they  are  conscious  of 
new  desires  and  of  a  new  strength  ;  they  have 
a  regard  for  Christ,  and  were  they  to  assert  this 
regard  in  the  circumstances  which  call  for  its 
assertion,  their  regard  would  be  deepened. 
They  have  a  desire  to  serve  Him,  and  were 
they  to  do  so  in  those  small  matters  with  which 
they  have  daily  concern,  their  desire  and  ability 
would  be  increased.  Grace  of  any  kind  invested 
in  the  actual  opportunities  of  life  cannot  come 
back  to  us  as  small  as  it  was,  but  enlarged  and, 
strengthened. 

Such  grace  then  as  we  have,  such  knowledge 
as  we  have  of  what  is  due  to  others,  to  our- 
a^-  selves,  and  to  God,  let  us  give  free  expression 
to.  Such  investments  of  Christian  principle  as 
are  within  our  reach  let  us  make ;  such  mani- 
festations of  a  Christian  temper  and  mind  as  our 
circumstances  daily  demand  let  us  exhibit,  and 
it  must  come  to  pass  that  we  increase  in  grace. 
There  is  no  other  way  whatever  of  becoming 
richly  endowed  in  spirit  than  by  trading  with 
whatever  we  have  to  begin  with.  We  cannot 
leap  into  a  fortune  in  spiritual  things ;  rich 
saints  cannot  bequeath  us  what  their  life-long 
toil  has  won  ;  they  cannot  even  lend  us  so  that 
we  may  begin  on  borrowed  capital.  In  the 
spiritual  life  all  must  be  genuine  ;  we  must 
work  our  own  way  upwards,  and  by  humbly 
and  wisely  laying  out  whatever  we  now  possess, 
make  it  more  or  be  for  ever  poor. 


THE  TALENTS.  267 

And  yet  how  few  avail  themselves  of  this 
law,  and  lay  up  treasure  in  heaven.  How  few 
make  great  fortunes  in  the  spiritual  life.  The 
mass  of  Christians  never  get  even  fairly  started 
in  a  career  which  is  at  all  likely  to  end  in  great 
saintliness  of  character  and  serviceableness. 
They  act  as  if  they  had  no  capital  of  grace  to 
begin  with,  no  fund  to  trade  upon  ;  and  they 
never  make  any  more  of  it  than  they  made  the 
first  week  of  their  profession.  They  are  not 
traders,  every  year  increasing  their  stock  and 
enlarging  their  gains,  but  they  resemble  men 
who  receive  a  weekly  wage,  which  is  no  more 
to-day  than  it  was  years  ago.  Is  it  not  worth}- 
of  remark  that  after  years  of  prayer  and  of  con- 
cernment with  the  fountain  of  all  spiritual  life, 
there  should  be  .so  small  a  fund  of  it  laid  up 
within  ourselves  .?  Is  it  not  the  fact  that  we 
seem  to  be  living  from  hand  to  mouth,  on  the 
verge  of  bankruptcy,  with  no  more  between  us 
and  spiritual  starvation  than  the  day  we  be- 
lieved.-' Are  we  conscious  that  our  Christian 
principle  has  been  deepening  year  by  year  ? 
Can  we  count  over  our  spiritual  gains  this  day, 
and  reckon  up  solid  accumulations  of  grace  in 
our  character  ?  Or  are  we  still  merely  keeping 
the  wolf  from  the  door,  and  not  always  that .-' 
Are  we  making  a  bare  shift  to  get  through 
without  absolutely  breaking  down  .''  Is  it  all  we 
can  do  to  make  ends  meet,  and  to  keep  up  in 


268 


THE  TALENTS. 


our  own  souls  the  idea  that  we  are  servants  of 
Christ  ?  Do  we  feel  as  if  there  were  the 
thinnest  partition  betweenus  and  great  sin  ? 
In  a  word,  are  we  enriched^with  the  "  more 
abundance  "  of  the  well-doing  servant,  and  do 
we  find  ourselves  every  way  better  equipped 
for  all  good  work ;  or  does  even  that  which  we 
once  persuaded  ourselves  we  had  seem  to  be 
vanishing  away  ? 

But  the  parable  reminds  us  that  it  is 
not  only  the  careless  who  fail  to  use  their 
talents  to  advantage,  but  that  the  same  result 
sometimes  follows  from  a  deliberate  but  false 
conception  of  the  service  of  Christ.  As  in  the 
world,  there  are  many  who  prefer  comfort  to 
wealth,  and  have  no  ambition  to  rank  as 
millionaires,  so  in  the  Christian  life  many  prefer 
what  they  conceive  to  be  security  to  eminent 
saintliness.  They  do  not  care  about  greatly 
increasing  the  godliness  they  already  have. 
They  would  like  to  have  so  much  grace  as 
would  set  them  on  the  right  hand,  not  on  the 
left  ;  on  the  winning  and  not  on  the  losing 
side  ;  but  they  are  not  concerned  to  have  an 
abundant  entrance  if  only  they  get  into  the 
kingdom  at  all.  They  therefore  make  no 
thoroughgoing  effort  to  keep  moving  forwards, 
but  rather  avoid  whatever  would  effectually 
commit  them  to  a  more  devoted  and  self- 
sacrificing  life.  They  rather  repress  the 
gracious     feelings     they    have    than    seek    to 


THE  TALENTS.  269 

secure  for  them  an  increasing  expression  in 
their  Hfe.  They  see  customs  in  business  which 
they  cannot  approve,  but  they  make  no  re- 
monstrance. They  recognize  circumstances  in 
which  a  word  of  Christian  advice  might  be  bene- 
ficial, but  they  do  not  speak  it.  They  decline 
to  appeal  to  the  highest  motives  of  those 
around  them.  They  do  not  pray  in  their 
families.  They  avoid  all  action  which  might 
give  them  a  character  for  zeal.  They_seek__to 
live_a_moderatejdecent^  jife^  They  seek  to  hit 
the  mean,  and  to  be  neither  obviously  godless  nor 
to  be  righteous  over  much.  They  have  some 
grace,  but  they  do  not  circulate  it  and  seek  to 
make  it  more;  they  have  a  talent,  but  they  bury  it. 
Of  such  a  method  of  dealing  with  our  con- 
nection with  Christ,  there  is  only  one  possible 
result.  The  unused  talent  passes  from  the  ser- 
vant who  would  not  use  it  to  the  man  who  will. 
A  landlord  has  two  farms  lying  together :  the 
one  is  admirably  managed,  the  other  is  left 
almost  to  itself,  with  the  least  possible  manage- 
ment, and  becomes  the  talk  of  the  whole  country- 
side for  poor  crops  and  untidiness.  No  one 
asks  what  the  landlord  will  do  when  the  leases 
are  out.  It  is  a  matter  of  course  that  he  dis- 
misses the  careless  tenant,  and  puts  his  farm 
into  the  hands  of  the  skilful  and  diligent  farmer. 
He  enforces  the  great  law  :  "  To  him  that  hath 
shall  be  given,  and  he  shall  have  more  abund- 


270  THE  TALENTS. 

ance;  but  from  him  that  hath  not  shall  be  taken 
even  that  he  hath." 

In  the  kingdom  of  Christ  this  law  is  self-acting. 
To  bury  our  talent  and  so  keep  it  as  originally 
given  is  an  impossibility.  To  have  just  so  much 
grace  and  no  more  is  an  impossibility.  It  must 
either  be  circulating  and  so  multiplying,  or  it 
ceases  to  be.  It  must  grow,  or  it  will  die.  You 
might  as  well  try  to  keep  your  child  always  a 
child :  he  must  either  grow  or  die.  In  the 
physical  world  the  law  has  become  familiar. 
The  unused  muscle  dwindles  and  disappears : 
no  one  needs  to  come  and  remove  it ;  want  of 
use  removes  it.  The  ants  whose  habits  of  life 
enabled  them  to  find  food  without  the  aid  of 
sight  have  gradually  lost  the  organ  of  sight 
itself.  And  so  is  it  in  the  spiritual  world  also. 
The  unused  faculty  becomes  extinct.  Hence  it 
is  that  you  see  some  old  persons  absoliitgly 
callous^  the  time  was  when  they  had  at  least  a  i 
capacity  for  believing  in  divine  things  and  for 
choosing  God  as  their  portion,  but  now  you 
would  say  that  the  very  capacity  is  destroyed  ; 
no  Godward  emotion  can  find  a  place  in  their 
heart,  nothing  can  stir  a  penitent  thought  in 
them.  Hence  it  is  that  in  your  own  souls  you 
perhaps  are  finding  that,  no  matter  what  effort 
you  make,  you  cannot  enter  as  heartily  into 
holy  services  and  occupations  as  once  you  did, 
but   are    finding  your   old   joy   and    assurance 


THE  TALENTS.  27I 

honey-combed  by  unbelieving  thoughts.  Hence 
it  is  that  the  susceptibiHty  to  right  feehng  you 
had  in  boyhood  has  gone  from  you.  You  did 
not  mean  to  become  unfeeling,  but  only  shrank 
from  acting  as  feeling  dictated.  But  he  who 
blows  out  the  flame,  finds  that  the  heat  and  the 
glow  die  out  of  themselves. 

The  teaching  of  this  side  of  the  parable,  then, 
is  alarming  in  the  extreme.  The  warning  it 
conveys  proceeds  not  from  an  external  voice  we 
can  defy  or  which  may  be  mistaken,  but  from  the 
laws  of  our  nature ;  and  it  speaks  not  of  an 
arbitrary  infliction  of  punishment,  but  of  results 
which  these  laws  render  inevitable.  The  unused 
faculty  dies  out.  The  capacities  we  have  for 
loving  and  serving  God  are  taken  from  us. 
That  which  was  once  possible  becomes  for  ever 
impossible.  The  future  once  open  to  us  is  closed. 
We  are  permanently  crippled,  limited,  paralyzed, 
deadened.  Had  we  followed  the  openings  given 
to  us,  had  we  used  the  talent  committed  to  iis, 
endless  expansion  and  fulness  of  joy  would  have 
been  ours,  but  now  our  chances  are  past.  We 
have  had  our  opportunity,  we  have  for  years 
been  on  probation,  but  now  it  is  over  for  us. 
How  gladly  would  a  man  renounce  all  that  sin 
has  brought  him,  if  only  he  could  stand  again 
with  his  talent  in  his  hand,  and  all  life's  oppor- 
tunities before  him.  If  there  is  one  truth  more 
than  another  on  which  the  young  may  begin  to 


272  THE  TALENTS. 

build  their  life,  it  is  this  :  that  each  time  you 
decline  a  duty  to  which  your  better  self  prompts 
Wou,  you  become  less  capable  of  doing  it ;  and 
pn  the  other  hand,  that  each  resistance  to 
I  temptation,  each  humble  and  painful  effort 
'  after  what  is  good,  is  real  growth  in  character,^ 
growth  as  real  and  as  permanent  as  the  growth 
in  stature  which,  once  attained,  can  never  again 
dwindle  to  the  size  of  the  child. 

Let  us  then  give  ear  to  the  parable,  and  if 
we  are  conscious  that  even  now  we  are  very 
poor  in  spiritual  things,  let  us  make  the  most 
of  the  grace  we  have  lest  we  become  altogether 
destitute.  If  we  are  now  stammering  in  prayer, 
the  likelihood  is  we  shall  soon  be  dumb,  unable 
to  pray.  If  we  are  more  frequently  questioning 
the  reality  of  God's  interference  in  human 
affairs,  and  if  we  more  freely  admit  doubts 
regarding  cardinal  truths,  the  likelihood  is  we 
shall  soon  disbelieve,  and  have  the  very  faculty 
of  faith  paralyzed  so  as  to  be  unable  to  perceive 
evidence  the  most  weighty  and  conclusive.  If 
we  are  letting  go  one  by  one  our  Christian 
connections,  and  involving  ourselves  more  and 
more  with  worldly  matters,  the  probability  is 
that  shortly  we  shall  be  hardened  and  eager 
worldlings.  We  have  seen  the  process  going 
on  in  many;  why  is  it  not  to  go  on  in  ourselves.-' 
If  good  works  and  charitable  employments  are 
more  a  burden   to    us  than   they  were,   let  us 


THE  TALENTS.  273 

beware  lest  \vc  wither  and  become  fit  only  for 
the  axe  and  the  fire.  As  the  cramped  and 
numbed  arm  warns  and  wakens  the  sleeper,  so 
let  this  creeping  hardness  that  comes  over  our 
spirits  awaken  us,  while  yet  there  is  time  to 
chafe  the  dead  limb  to  life.  If  yet  we  can 
summon  into  active  life  one  self-denying  resolu- 
tion, if  yet  we  can  feel  at  all  the  constraining 
power  of  Christ's  love,  and  can  obey  His  voice 
in  any  one  particular,  if  yet  we  can  prevail  upon 
ourselves  to  give  up  worldly  and  carnal  ideas 
of  life,  and  entertain  humble  and  chastened 
desires;  then  let  us  most  anxiously  cherish  such 
feelings,  let  us  fan  every  good  disposition  into 
flame  lest  it  die,  let  us  at  once  circulate 
and  invest  our  little  remaining  capital  in  the 
good  works  we  are  daily  called  to,  that 
the  very  faculty  of  doing  anything  for  God 
and  our  fellowmen  may  not  for  ever  perish 
out  of  us. 

In  closing,  it  may  be  well  to  give  special  pro- 
minence to  a  truth  which  has  throughout  been 
implied,  that  increased  grace  is  its  own  reward  ; 
or,  at  any  rate,  an  essential  part  of  it.  The  ser- 
vant who  had  multiplied  his  talents  is  rewarded 
by  the  possession  and  use  of  these  multiplied 
talents!  He  does  not  now  get  the  burden  of 
business  lifted  off  his  shoulders,  and  a  life  of 
ease  appointed  to  him.  This  would  be  to 
S 


2  74  THE  TALENTS. 

reward  the  successful  officer  by  depriving  him 
of  his  command,  as  if  an  ample  pension  would 
compensate  to  a  martial  spirit  for  the  want  of 
active  service  and  fresh  opportunities  of  using 
richer  experience  and  ampler  powers.  The 
talents  gained  are  left  in  the  hands  that  gained 
them,  and  wider  opportunities  for  their  use  are 
afforded.  This  is  the  reward  of  the  faithful 
servant  of  Christ ;  the  grace  he  has  diligently 
used  is  increased,  and  his  opportunities  con- 
tinually multiply.  He  is  always  entering  upon 
his  reward ;  and  entrance  into  heaven  only 
marks  the  point  at  which  his  Lord  expresses 
His  approval,  and  raises  him  from  a  position  in 
which  his  fidelity  is  tested  to  a  position  of  rule, 
that  is,  of  acknowledged  trustworthiness  and 
self-control,  the  position  of  one  who  has  acquired 
an  interest  in  the  work,  and  who  so  manifestly 
lives  for  it  that  it  is  impossible  any  interest  of 
his  own  should  divert  him  from  this.  He  has 
no  other  interest.  His  joy  is  his  Lord's  joy,  joy 
in  successfully  advancing  the  best  interests  of 
men,  joy  in  the  sight  of  others  made  righteously 
happy. 

This,  then,  is  the  reward  Christ  offers  to 
us,  a  reward  consisting  mainly  in  increased 
ability  to  serve  Him  and  forward  what  is  good. 
There  can  be  no  reward  more  certain,  for  it 
begins  here  and  now.     Your  increasing  grace  is 


THE  TALENTS.  2  75 

your  heaven  begun.     This  is  the  earnest  of  the 
Spirit,  the  dawning  of  eternal    day.     No  one 
need    tell   you    that   there    is    no   heaven  :    the 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  within  you.      And  this 
reward  is  also  the  best  you  can  imagine.     All 
other  rewards  would    be  external    to   yourself 
and  separable  from  yourself,  but  this  reward  is 
within  you,  in  your  own  growth  in   character. 
Not  your  condition  alone,  but  you  yourself  are 
to   be   good.     What  can  be  better  than  this  ? 
What  is  the  reward  the  sick  man  receives  for 
his  attention  to  every  prescription  of  his  physi-  , 
cian  and  his  avoidance  of  everything  that  would 
throw  him  back.?   His  reward  is  that  he  becomes 
healthy.    What  reward  has  the  boy  for  obedience 
and  diligence  and  purity .?     His  reward  is  that 
he  becomes  a  vigorous  and  capable  man,  fit  for 
the  ampler  enjoyments  which  the  nobler  activi- 
ties of  life  bring.     So  says  our  Lord,  "  I  am 
come  that  ye  might  have  life,  and  that  ye  might 
have    it   more   abundantly."       If  it   be   asked, 
what   is   the   great   inducement .-'  what  is  that 
which  makes   life  worth  living  .-•    what   is   that 
which  we  can  set  before  us  as  our  sufficient 
reward  and  aim  ?  the  answer  can  only  be :  the 
inducement  is  that  we  have  the  sure  hope  of 
becoming  satisfactory  persons,  of  growing  up  to 
the   stature   and    energies    of   perfect   men,    of 


276  THE  TALENTS. 

becoming  perfect  as  our  Father  is  perfect,  who 
\needs  no  reward  but  delights  evermore  in  being 
and    doing    good  ;    who    loves   and    is   therein 
blessed.  ^ 


0340TC.  396J 

07-22-04  32180     MS    i-" 


TurnhiiU  ^  Spears.  Prinhrs,  Edinlnirgh. 


Princeton  Theological  Seminat7  Libraries 


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